A Thousand Kingdoms
by Black Alnair
Summary: A storm is coming and Merlin must travel to the edge of his world to save more than just one kingdom. Magic reveal fic with BAMF! Merlin, bromance and some romance for our favorite warlock (Merthian). Post S4.
1. A Message

**Title**: A Thousand Kingdoms

**Summary**: A storm is coming and Merlin must travel to the edge of his world to save more than just one kingdom. Magic reveal fic with BAMF! Merlin, bromance and some romance for our favorite warlock. Post S4.

* * *

Chapter 1 – A Message

The winds carried a message to him.

_Hope lies where the sea meets the sky._

The message worried him. Camelot had been quiet – there had been an intrigue or two at court and the harvest from the lowlands was lower than expected – but overall, the kingdom had recovered admirably from the last siege. The lower town had been rebuilt, merchants from different lands were returning and setting up stalls filled with exotic wares and children were out and about, chasing each other barefooted. The streets were again filled with the sounds of everyday life. The winds were supposed to sing now.

Merlin had been following Arthur through the marketplace but had paused when the shift occurred, the winds coming down a little lower, and magic spoke to him. He looked around when it was clear he would hear no more – there was laughter, shouting and exclamations on the street, and a huff – the sound of an exasperated king waiting for his daydreaming manservant.

"_Mer_lin, any day now," he grumbled, hands on his hips.

Yes, any day now. This was the calm before the storm.

* * *

"The wind spoke to me," Merlin said without preamble as he entered the Court Physician's quarters.

"Merlin, I have a patient!" Gaius groused, throwing up his hands at his ward. "Sometimes I'm not sure if you want to keep that head on your shoulders."

"Surely Arthur wouldn't." Thankfully, Gaius' patient had been Lancelot.

"Are you alright? What's the matter?" Merlin's earlier concerns were momentarily pushed aside when he saw his friend leaning against the worktable, his arm wrapped in white bandage.

"Don't worry, it's just a scratch. Gwaine nicked me during training is all," Lancelot explained, trying to waive Merlin away with his good arm. "The large bandage is to impress the ladies."

That wasn't true – Lancelot still only had eyes for Gwen – that is, _Queen_ Guinevere. He wasn't trying to impress anyone, just deflecting. It didn't work.

Merlin gently undid Gauis' work while his guardian huffed behind him. Pressing his hand to the "scratch", he whispered a spell had been practicing. When he pulled his hand away, it really was only a scratch. Merlin grinned, he was getting better. He was generally rubbish at healing spells.

"We'll have to wrap this up again, of course. To impress the _ladies_."

Lancelot smiled his thanks.

Gaius, however, wasn't smiling. He showed his disapproval with a frown and a raised eyebrow. Sometimes Merlin could be so careless – barging in shouting about magical winds and healing wounds with a single word without so much as a glance behind to see if the door was properly closed. Of course, Gaius had done _that _the moment Merlin walked in saying things he shouldn't be saying out loud. The physician also hooked the latch for good measure. Even though Merlin somehow managed to keep his secret safe for years now, Gaius couldn't help but worry.

In fact, Gaius thought as he watched Merlin leaning over Lancelot's arm, he was more anxious about Merlin's secret as time progressed and Arthur still remained in the dark. Gaius understood Merlin's reservations – the young King had been through much turmoil in the past five years, betrayed by those he trusted and nearly killed several times over by those with magic. But the longer Merlin kept his secret, the greater the magnitude of its revelation would be.

Gaius sighed, moving forward to inspect Merlin's work. "This is acceptable," Gaius conceded. Of course, Merlin knew a compliment from his mentor when he heard one and straightened his back with pride. Gaius turned away to hide his small smile.

"Well," Gaius said when he turned back, "what is this about the wind speaking to you?"

Merlin walked about the room, replaying the episode in his mind. "It wasn't the wind speaking exactly. A voice carried by the wind, I think."

"What did it sound like?"

"Like…" He couldn't say now that he had to describe it. "Like something I've never heard before," he said lamely. "It wasn't male or female but I felt like I could trust it."

"It triggered your magical senses," Gaius said with a nod.

"Yes."

"Well, what did it say?" Lancelot struggled with an unfamiliar desire to roll his eyes – wasn't that the most important part?

"Hope lies where the sea meets the sky," Merlin stated solemnly.

"What does that mean?" Lancelot asked with a tilt of his head.

"That I'm probably going to become this annoyingly vague in old age."

"It _means_ Merlin," Gaius said, raising his eyebrow again, "you better get to the library and do some research."

* * *

Merlin had been in and out of the library all afternoon and he was no closer to the truth. Indeed, it felt like he had been walking in circles all day. Was the message supposed to literal or metaphoric? Was it tied to mythology or an occurrence in nature? The small reading table was littered with books on science, philosophy, ancient Roman history and religious rites. Merlin rubbed his eyes. He needed some fresh air. He grabbed two books off the top of a haphazard stack and made his way out to the battlements.

He settled at his usual place, along the east wall of the castle, near the tallest tower. Guards rarely patrolled this corner as the ground below this area was made of impenetrable rock that jutted out dangerously at any would be intruders.

Merlin opened a history on the Five Kingdoms and started reading.

Two hours later, Merlin closed his second book and sighed. He wasn't even sure what he was looking for – he needed more direction. He leaned far over the wall to look at the courtyard below. He spied Arthur talking to Leon and Gwaine. As usual, Leon was at attention, ever the model knight. Gwaine appeared to be preening. There must be some pretty girl nearby, Merlin thought with a grin. He saw Gwen walk up to the trio. From the shake of her head, she was gently chastising the dark-haired knight.

Merlin lifted his head up to follow the receding rays of the setting sun. Beyond the citadel was rest of the town and further out were villages and farmland, woods, Druids and magical beasts. This was his home, this was his family. Whatever was coming, he had to be prepared. It wasn't good enough to figure out what the riddle was about – he had to go where the sea met the sky.

* * *

**A/N**: First Merlin fic! Please review. I'm not as well versed in this universe as I would like to be, but I hope there aren't any glaring errors. Obviously, there's Lancelot but I wanted a couple of things for our poor Merlin – a confident amongst the knights – and some romance, so the birth of this AUish fic.


	2. A Destination

Chapter 2 – A Destination

* * *

Last time...

_The winds carried a message to him._

_Hope lies where the sea meets the sky..._

_...Merlin lifted his head up to follow the receding rays of the setting sun. Beyond the citadel was rest of the town and further out were villages and farmland, woods, Druids and magical beasts. This was his home, this was his family. Whatever was coming, he had to be prepared. It wasn't good enough to figure out what the riddle was about – he had to go where the sea met the sky._

* * *

Merlin was up at dawn. He could never sleep when there was a problem to be solved. He went to the battlements again and flipped through another book, the _Argonautica. _He was looking more for inspiration than an answer.

"Tempting fate, Merlin?"

Merlin's head snapped up. "Sir Leon, what are you doing here?" Merlin tried to correct himself – he didn't mean to sound so abrupt. "I mean…I didn't expect to see you here. Guards rarely come this way."

Leon grimaced. "I _know_. And they should. I check myself once in a while. You can never be too vigilant."

Merlin grinned, recalling his thought yesterday that Leon was a model knight.

"Now, I would really hate to be the one to tell the King his manservant fell off one of the tallest points of the castle. Would you mind…?" Leon nodded pointedly at the way Merlin was sitting, one leg dangling over the side of the castle.

"Oh right." Merlin handed Leon the tome in his lap before adjusting his sitting position. "Thanks." He reached out for the book but Leon was looking at the cover curiously.

Very few peasants knew how to read – there was no need for them to learn – so it had surprised Leon the first time he had come across Merlin hidden in an alcove with his nose in a book. He had assumed Merlin had been some kitchen boy, elevated to the status of Prince's manservant when he saved Arthur's life from that dagger all those years ago. The knight only later learned that the boy had actually come to Camelot to be a physician's assistant.

But the book in Leon's hands wasn't a medical text as far as he could tell. It wasn't even in English. He flipped a few pages, squinting at the characters. "Is this…?" Leon tried to keep his features neutral. "Is this in Greek?"

"Um," was all Merlin offered as he scratched the back of his head and looked away.

"What are you reading in Greek?"

"Oh, is this Greek?" Merlin laughed overly loud, still not making eye contact. The warlock wasn't unaware of how others viewed him, as Arthur's goofy idiotic manservant. While it was frustrating to be treated like some cabbage head all the time, it was a convenient cover. Reading epic Greek poetry was, well, a bit contrary to said cover. "No wonder I couldn't make head or tail of it."

Leon also laughed overly loud. He had watched Merlin long enough before approaching him to know that the boy had in fact been reading the book in his hands. There had been no crease of confusion on his brow, no hesitation as his eyes scanned one line after another. So, why was Merlin pretending that he didn't even know he was reading Greek?

Leon turned the book in his hands thoughtfully. "Well, since you can't even read it, why don't I take it back to the library for you?"

"Oh, you don't have to!" Merlin tripped over his own feet in his haste to stand, barely managing to stand upright in a hurricane of limbs.

"No, I insist." Leon clapped a friendly hand on Merlin's shoulder, steadying him. "Good thing I convinced you to take on a more suitable sitting position," he said earnestly.

Merlin nodded and grinned sheepishly in acknowledgement.

Leon lifted his hand to give the boy another pat on his shoulder before walking away. Before turning the corner, Leon looked back to see Merlin regarding him with a quizzical but somewhat serious expression on his face. Leon knew Merlin didn't have a mental affliction as Uther once claimed the boy did. Indeed, he could easily recall half a dozen memories where Merlin had seriously impressed him with his smarts. Leon looked down at the book in his hands, trying to understand why Merlin would play the part of a fool then.

Leon felt uneasy the entire way down to the library. Though he was returning the book as he said he would, he did have an ulterior motive and it made he feel like he was doing something underhanded. He was just about to turn around and give the book back to Merlin, whether he could actually read Greek or not, when he heard footsteps coming down the corridor. He panicked in a very unknightly manner and found himself in the very room he was about to turn away from, door closed soundly behind him.

"Sir Leon," Geoffrey frowned at him from behind his desk. "Are you lost?"

"Uh, pardon?" Leon guffawed. Leon knew he was no scholar but he was educated enough – was it so impossible for him to come to a library?

Geoffrey sighed, sounding bothered. "Is there anything I can do for you, sire?"

"No, I was just returning a book for Merlin. Uh…" He walked forward, holding the book out. He didn't want to admit that he couldn't read the title of the book but well, maybe embarrassment is what he deserved for going behind Merlin's back. "What is this?"

Geoffrey took the book from Leon. "Ah, the epic poem by Apollonius Rhodius."

Leon blinked blankly at the historian.

"_Argonautica_. The story of Jason and the Argonauts." Geoffrey always had a way of making him feel incompetent. "Clearly, this was something Merlin was reading. Such a bright boy." Geoffrey finished off fondly.

Leon lifted his eyebrows briefly. Geoffrey was never fond of anything but a book. He supposed if there was an exception to anything, it was Merlin. "So, what else does Merlin read?"

Geoffrey's head turned towards Leon so sharply Leon was afraid the old man had hurt it. But Geoffrey indicated no such pain. Instead, he stared at Leon with beady eyes. "And what business is it of yours?" He angrily pulled the _Argonautica_ out of sight. "If there is nothing more, Sir Leon, I would suggest you move on."

Leon was so taken aback that he followed Geoffrey's order without argument. But once he was outside the library he realized he now had a lot of questions and no answers.

* * *

Merlin had paced a path in the grass while expounding his theories to Kilgharrah. There were too many possibilities, too many paths to walk down that could be wrong, and Kilgharrah hadn't listened to any of it.

"Hey!" Merlin exclaimed, jumping up and down. "Dragonlord here!"

Kilgharrah turned to him somewhat lazily. "You are an admirable reader, Merlin, but you are not scholar, you are a warlock – it is time to use magic to seek the answers you need."

"Well, _how_?" Merlin sighed. Of course he had thought of using magic to figure out this enigma but as talented as he was in picking up spells and manipulating the elements, he had run out of sources. He had been through every page of his spell book at least three times over. Only Kilgharrah could teach him more and the dragon was usually as clear as the bottom of a bog.

_I heard that_, Kilgharrah said in his head. Merlin did not apologize. It was true after all.

"It will not be easy," the Great Dragon said out loud.

Merlin rolled his eyes. Of course it wasn't easy, it never was.

"It appears this message was sent from a far distance. It takes great power to send a message this clear –"

"Clear?"

"Yes, _clear_." Kilgharrah huffed a bit before admitting, "I'm not certain I could send a message across so much space without a kinship link."

"Like between us?"

"Precisely. I can hear you call me from great distances as we are spiritual brothers. Whoever sent this message must have used a great deal of magic to connect to you. Remember when the Fisher King sent for you? He was only able to reach you by sending Arthur a message through a dream. He wouldn't have been able to send _you_ that same message, much less while you were fully conscious and aware."

Merlin frowned, considering this. Sometimes he wasn't sure what ought to be difficult and what was supposed to be simple. It didn't appear that he followed any normal rules, even for magic. "I'm not sure…" he began slowly as he sorted out his feelings, "whether I'm comforted or concerned that someone went to all this trouble to send me a message."

"There is only one way to find out. Find the sender's magical signature and trace it back to him."

"Alright," Merlin replied, straightening his shoulder. "How do I do that?"

Kilgharrah tilted his head at the young warlock. "I just told you."

"Wha-at?" Merlin spluttered. "You told me what I should do, _not_ how to do it!" Merlin opened his mouth to say more on the matter but at that moment, Aithusa swooped down and dropped a pile of dirt, grass and flowers she had just picked up on top of Merlin's head.

"Hey, _dragonlord_ here!"

But neither dragon was listening.

* * *

Merlin had been frustrated by the vagueness of Kilgharrah's advice – _as usual_, he had complained – but Gaius had frowned at it. The physician respected Kilgharrah but Gaius was a learned man of books and science for most of his life and was not so certain magic was the answer. Of course, he believed in magic, believed in its beguiling power and its ability to change the shape of this world, but he didn't think one could pull an answer from thin air.

"There isn't even a spell?"

"No," Merlin had pouted. "He said I would find it within myself to reach out to the world. Whatever that means."

"There is no process, no method, no _research_."

Merlin smiled at the last one. "No, no _research _at all."

Gaius started pacing. "But you don't even know what to do."

No, Merlin didn't know what to do. But it was time, time to figure out the extent of his magic, to do things outside his spell book. It wasn't like he hadn't done something similar before – like during his battle with Nimueh – but then he had been fueled by rage and hurt. If he had a great destiny to protect, he had to be better prepared, he had to be capable of unleashing his full power if necessary. In the past, he had been too scared, of revealing himself, of doing something he could not control. He didn't want to tap into that fire roaring inside of him. But he knew, he always knew, there would be a time when he would need to, _want_ to, know what his full power was. It seemed that time was now.

Arthur popped in to the physician's chambers later that afternoon, looking for his missing manservant. "And where has he gone _now_? I thought I just saw him - with _flowers_ in his hair."

"Herb picking," Gaius told the King. "Very _important_ herb picking. And flowers, of course. Important herbal flowers." For some reason, even to the physician's ears, it sounded like "the tavern again."

* * *

They did not follow the road but cut across the forest westward until they reached a clearing that was well hidden by a grove of closely grown trees.

"They really haven't figured it out yet?"

"Not as far as I can tell," Merlin replied as he looked around. This seemed to be as good of a place as any.

"Arthur probably hasn't ever seen you take a drink and Gwaine always complains you are never at the tavern," Lancelot mused.

"Oh, you know, I'm just crafty," he said with a shrug as he settled down tailor-style on the forest floor. "You're the only who has figured it out," Merlin noted.

Lancelot, humble as always, shook his head. "I _overheard _you. That hardly counts."

From his seated position, Merlin grinned, "Well, good for me Arthur has had many convenient knocks on his head."

"Aren't you going to tell him?" Lancelot asked, tilting his head at his friend. He didn't want to pry but Gaius had shared his concerns with Lancelot and the knight couldn't help agreeing.

"Lancelot, I need to teach you how to maintain the mood," Merlin teased, making a show of opening up the heavens or whatever he was going to do. He really was just closing his eyes and scrunching his brow for effect.

"That hardly sounds promising." Lancelot sighed, pursuing his lips at how Merlin was skirting the issue, but he didn't pursue his unanswered question. It wasn't in his nature to force another person's hand. Instead, he took up a position from higher ground to guard his sorcerer friend. He wanted to watch Merlin, see more than the few tricks he caught now and then, but more than that, he wanted to protect him, so he only looked at Merlin in passing as he scanned the forest around them for any intruders.

Meanwhile, Merlin had reached in to that golden fire thread that was his magic burning inside of him before using it to reach out to the world around him. Kilgharrah had told him that his magic could speak to this world and that it would guide him even when he was lost. Merlin focused on it – trying to bend it to his command, to follow his will even when he wasn't sure what his will was. He felt it alive and living in him and as it reached out beyond him and touched the woods, the earth, the rivers, the air, he felt the world sing to him, welcoming him, as though he had come back from a long journey and he was being embraced by his friends once again. He continued to reach out, further and further, and the golden flame – _he_ – connected with everything it touched, and he was almost one with the world. And then it caught the wind, swift and sharp, and it followed the direction of an old call, a call just meant for him. It headed towards the sea by Gedref.

* * *

Leon watched as two figures emerged from the woods, one leaning heavily against the other. He could tell one of the figures was a knight, the red cloak of Camelot floating up and out behind him in the light breeze. The blue neckerchief wrapped around the other figure's neck was a telltale giveaway as to who he was.

Leon had run into Arthur earlier that day. The King had been grumbling about how his lazy manservant was at the tavern again. "Probably drunk under a table," Arthur had fumed.

Merlin certainly looked tired, but they were coming from the opposite direction of the tavern and Leon doubted the two had snuck to the Darkling Woods to throw back a couple of pints of ale. As they neared, Leon, much to his own shame, ducked behind a pillar.

"What are you capable of?" Lancelot asked as he adjusted his grip on the tired warlock.

Merlin huffed out a short laugh. "Even I don't know."

"Are you concerned that it's a trap? Or that you are wrong?"

"No," Merlin replied strongly.

Leon raised an eyebrow from where he stood but meters away. Even though he couldn't see Merlin, he could hear the confidence in the boy's voice. It was rare for the manservant to speak with the voice of a king. "How do you know?" Lancelot was asking.

"Because I can sense it. I can trust it."

Lancelot sighed. He wished more people could say that. "So what now?"

Leon watched the pair head towards the physician's chambers. His stomach twisted uneasily. The knight didn't like subterfuge – he not only had even more questions than he had earlier in the week, but felt like he was betraying the confidences of his fellow knight and Merlin. He turned to leave but he couldn't help hearing Merlin's reply.

"I need an excuse. To go to the kingdom of Nemeth."


	3. A Truth, A Lie and A Path

Chapter 3 – A Truth, A Lie and A Path

Last time...

_He continued to reach out, further and further, and the golden flame – _he_ – connected with everything it touched, and he was almost one with the world. And then it caught the wind, swift and sharp, and it followed the direction of an old call, a call just meant for him. It headed towards the sea by Gedref…_

_…"I need an excuse. To go to the kingdom of Nemeth."_

* * *

"You should have lied."

Merlin frowned across the table at Gaius.

"What's wrong with the truth?"

"Well, it sounds…"

Merlin knew exactly how it sounded – Arthur had laughed so hard he had fallen backwards onto the bed. At least, to Merlin's amusement, the mighty King of Camelot managed to get tangled in his own sheets. But still – was it so preposterous?

Well, yes, it kind of was…

But he was tired of lying, tired of keeping track of all the webs he had spun, each one becoming more elaborate and complicated, so that each time he turned, he was the one getting tangled up in them, and they would close in on him, trapping him, suffocating him. So, for once, he offered up the truth. And of course, he was going to be laughed all the way out of Camelot.

He had thought it was a joke himself when it was first put to him. At the most, it was something said in kindness rather than with sincerity. But then, he had doubted the Princess of Nemeth before and had been wrong. She had come to the wedding of her former fiancé, with her head held up and her bearing noble but open, and Merlin had instantly regretted his treatment of her before. He had apologized during the celebratory feast, tripping over his words and looking at his hands, but she had taken his hands in hers and looked him straight in the eye, "I know _you_, and you gave me a chance. Thank you though for seeing the truth for what it was and acting on it. It was very brave of you." He was sure he blushed like a girl. When she had invited him to Nemeth, he had nodded with even less grace than usual and ran away. His hands seemed to tingle for a week afterwards.

But now he needed to get to Nemeth and instead of sneaking away for an undetermined amount of time, he could actually go _with permission_. It was a novel idea.

* * *

"It's not like I'm a child," Merlin complained, stomping his foot down. Even if he _might_ sound a bit like one at the moment. But _still_, this was ridiculous – a patrol? And how long was this patrol going to stay with him? What would they do? What if they were needed for whatever was coming that he could not tell them about? Merlin certainly wasn't appreciating the irony of the situation.

He ran beside Arthur, arguing, "It's _Nemeth_. They're our allies."

"True, but bandits aren't. Nor are slave traders. Wolves. Wyverns. Wayward tree roots," Arthur began listing all sorts of foul creatures one could come across. He seemed to be engaging in some poor alliteration as well – a weak literary device in Merlin's opinion, but Arthur was no poet after all.

Merlin rolled his eyes – he had faced and defeated everything Arthur had listed. Except the tree roots – there seemed to be nothing for that. Suddenly, he pitched forward and it was only Arthur catching him by the arm that kept him upright. Merlin looked over his shoulder, expecting a tree root. There wasn't one. It appeared he tripped on air. He turned towards the King. The other man was giving him a pointed look. Merlin could only pout in return – it seemed there was nothing for air as well.

"Besides this conveniently timed display," Arthur said, pointing a finger at Merlin's chest, "You fight like a child."

Merlin felt these comparisons to a child were unfair. Arthur was the one who threw bread rolls and goblets at his servant's head. Arthur was the one who needed assistance dressing for the day. Arthur was the one _shorter_ than him. Merlin was about to the make the last point – this undeniable fact irritated the King to no end – but Arthur started dragging Merlin along with him by his arm.

"So a patrol it is!"

"Oh, _c'mon_!" Merlin tried to dig his heels in ground but it was a pointless battle. Soon, they reached the training fields and some of the knights paused as Arthur and Merlin passed by, bickering loudly. Most of them were used to it. Some watched for a bit, entertained by the strange pair the King and his gangly servant made, but others glowered at the boy – they could not behave in such a fashion with their sovereign but this shabby nameless shadow reveled in his insubordination. To add salt to the wound, the King not only tolerated it, he seemed to encourage it.

Leon saw Ballentine peel away from his training group suddenly and not very subtly, stick his sword out back and behind him. Leon frowned, not quite understanding the move, until he saw Ballentine eyeing a clueless Merlin about to step in the sword's path.

Ballentine chuckled. This was too easy. But just before the servant reached him, he was pushed hard on the shoulder and it was all he could do not to fall on his own sword. Ballentine hit the ground with a clunk, his armor making the fall more painful that it would have otherwise been. When he could focus his vision again, he saw Sir Leon above him with slight frown on his face. He leaned down and Ballentine put his hand up to grip the other man's hand, but there was no hand – Leon was instead bowing to Arthur as the King and Merlin each took wide steps over the downed knight.

"Look lively now, Hes…" Arthur turned to Leon.

"Ballentine," Leon supplied.

"Yes, Ballentine. You don't want a reputation of being clumsier than Merlin here," Arthur said, throwing an arm around his manservant.

Merlin didn't even acknowledge the side conversation. He was continuing his argument with Arthur. "It will be embarrassing!" he complained.

Arthur sighed. Merlin leaned towards him, hoping that this was a sign he was relenting. Instead, Arthur gave him an awkward side hug that was contrary to the sarcasm of his statement. "It's completely delusional but I admire you, Merlin, I really do, it takes bravery to go after a woman like that."

"Wait…what?"

"I mean, you must have become immune to outright rejection–"

"Rejection! Arthur, you have no idea what's up my sleeve."

"Oh, I've seen you with a sword. I have a good idea what's _not _up your sleeve."

They continued on until Lancelot cleared his throat.

Arthur turned to see his knight standing patiently behind them. "Want to spar or use Merlin as a practice dummy?" Arthur knew Lancelot would never take up the second offer.

"If you don't mind, I thought we could spar," he said, confirming Arthur's thoughts.

But then Merlin's face lighted up. "I really don't need a full patrol, I could…" Merlin looked to Lancelot for approval. He didn't want to drag Lancelot into this exactly, but if Arthur insisted he needed guards, well, wouldn't one of his best be as good as three? Lancelot quickly assessed what Merlin was asking and he inclined his head in agreement, he was always happy to help out Merlin. He wouldn't be here if it weren't for Merlin.

"Lancelot could come with me," Merlin said, nodding his head vigorously. "That should be good enough, right?"

Arthur pursed his lips. Lancelot was one of his best knights and they were just going to Nemeth so Merlin could embarrass himself in front of the Princess. He supposed most of his other knights would never let Merlin live that done – and that wouldn't be right, only Arthur was allowed to give Merlin that much grief. "Fine," Arthur said, throwing his hands up in the air to make a show of it. "Lancelot, I hope this isn't too much of an imposition."

"None at all," the knight replied graciously. "I think it would be a good jaunt for me."

"Are we off somewhere?" Gwaine asked as he ambled over, having only caught the tail end of the conversation.

Leon also stepped forward. "A journey, sire?" he addressed Arthur first in accordance with his sovereign's rank.

"No!" Merlin shouted before he could stop himself. At Gwaine's astonished expression, Merlin winced, realizing just how harsh he must have sounded. "I just mean that…I'm going on a little trip…small one, nowhere far…no taverns though." He almost smacked himself in the head with his hand gestures. "None! At all!"

"A difficult journey this would be for our Sir Gwaine," Leon nodded solemnly. "But that should hardly impair me. I would be honored to offer my services."

Merlin turned frantically towards Arthur. "Leon can't come. You need him… this is a personal matter – it would not look favorable to the counsel to use the crown's resources, particularly, your second-in-command, to help your servant in such trivial personal matters. They would claim you were acting profligately."

There it was, Leon thought. Merlin had just convinced Arthur using a nuanced reasoning that Leon was sure he wouldn't have recognized just a few days ago. The manservant locked Arthur into a logical box while retaining a sense of modesty – calling himself _your servant_, when did Merlin ever do that?– and concealing the true strength of his argument, that made everything seemed so…simple, something even a peasant could say… Except for maybe _profligately_. Gregory was not going to be happy to see him at the library again.

"And well, I want some solitude," Merlin was saying. "Er, but Lancelot is going but because he's being forced to…yes, and, um…you don't want to go, do you, Lancelot?" He shook his head vigorously. "No one really wants to go. Nowhere."

Leon felt embarrassed for Merlin. However skilled Merlin was with half-truths, he seemed to be a terrible liar.

Gwaine was similarly not impressed with Merlin's thin excuses. He tried to grin in return but it came out more like a grimace. Why was it always Merlin and Lancelot?

As though to prove a point, Lancelot moved forward and whispered closed to Merlin's ear. "You need to work on this."

"You would think I've had enough practice," he muttered in reply.

Gwaine threw up his hands at the two whispering like handmaidens at the laundry. The two of them could have kittens together for all he cared. He had the tavern. He stomped off.

Merlin looked up and groaned. Gwaine _never _stomped – unless he was very angry – and he must be at him for badly lying. "Wait, Gwaine, please!" Merlin pleaded, running after his friend.

Lancelot shifted his feet, unsure if he should intervene, but in the end, he decided that if there was anything he could do for Merlin, he would do it. He nodded his head at Arthur and Leon and ran after them.

"Girls," Arthur muttered under his breath. "The lot of them." He twirled his sword in the air for a bit, looked about the field and scratched the back of his head.

Leon didn't say a word. He expected Arthur to excuse himself shortly. And he did.

Leon bowed to his King and waited a beat before turning to look at Arthur striding away. Gwaine, Merlin and Lancelot were not that far ahead, more or less walking in a line that broke off now and again as one made a turn or dodged a knight on the field.

He wasn't surprised to see Arthur wasn't weaving across the field the same way the other men were following each other. Arthur was the truest of knights – his sword, his arrow, his walk was always straight. His line of sight and his feet followed one line only – Merlin's.

* * *

**A/N**: First of all, thanks to everyone for reviewing and following! I appreciate your thoughts and interest. And I apologize I didn't move the plot along very much this chapter, but I thought there was some important character development to establish (i.e., it will come up again, and also, I couldn't resist a bit of bromance!). So, who do you think will end up traveling with Merlin? The journey begins the next chapter!


	4. A Trick or Two

Chapter 4 – A Trick or Two

**A/N**: Thanks everyone for the feedback - it's always very helpful to get other people's POV. Also, for those who guessed who Merlin's traveling companions would be, some of you have some great ideas while others were awfully close!

* * *

Last time...

_It wasn't good enough to figure out what the riddle was about – he had to go where the sea met the sky…_

_… now he needed to get to Nemeth and instead of sneaking away for an undetermined amount of time, he could actually go with permission… _

_"Lancelot could come with me," Merlin said, nodding his head vigorously. "That should be good enough, right?"_

_Arthur pursed his lips. Lancelot was one of his best knights and they were just going to Nemeth so Merlin could embarrass himself in front of the Princess..._

* * *

Merlin had experienced countless dawns like this, but he never tired of the quiet mornings edged with the promise of warmth in a world washed in pale yellow gold. He took a moment to savor it, tilting his head back, feeling the sun slowly welcome him. He heard the whisper "_hope lies_" like a dragon's call.

The sound of boots on gravel alerted him to Lancelot's arrival. He lowered his head and turned, but was surprised to see Arthur and Leon.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, top of the morning to you, too," Arthur replied snidely.

Merlin did not rise to Arthur's bait. "You're _never _up this early," Merlin frowned, easily recalling the number of times he had to literally drag Arthur out of bed by his sheets. Surely, Arthur and Leon weren't coming along. This would complicate matters. He started thinking of ways he and Lancelot could separate from them.

"Oh, don't look like such a girl, Merlin."

He couldn't help but respond this time. "What does that even _mean_?"

Leon could only offer a shrug. Arthur rolled his eyes as though Merlin should know what a girl would look like. "Don't worry, we're not coming with you, just sending you off."

"Sending me off?" Merlin tried not to sound too please. Excepting Gwen, Arthur only showed his affection for others in a gruff way, mostly punches and headlocks. He rarely did it in a thoughtful way.

"More like, giving you a cloak," Arthur muttered, shoving a pale blue bundle into Merlin's hands. "I can't have you coming back with a cold. I already have a long list of chores for you."

Merlin fumbled with the fabric for a bit. It was medium weight, good quality, thankfully not ostentatious like a knight's cloak. He held it out and turned it a bit.

"It brings out the color of your eyes, Merlin."

Merlin laughed, turning his head towards Lancelot, who was leading the horses. "You always have the nicest things to say, Lancelot."

"I only say things that are true," Lancelot said solemnly as he angled the brown mare Merlin favored towards the warlock. "We should be off now."

"Do try not to embarrass yourself," Arthur said, scowling a bit. But the King still walked forward and clapped his manservant on the shoulder like an old friend. "Well," he said after a moment, stepping back, and offering a nod to Lancelot, "off to do more important things."

Leon seemed to linger for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to another. It was not like Leon to be nervous.

"So, God speed," he finally said, clapping his hands together.

"Thank you, Sir Leon," Lancelot replied before swinging up onto his white stallion.

Merlin didn't swing. He climbed, even though his mare was not so many hands tall as Lancelot's horse. When he was settled, he was surprised to find Leon had walked up to his horse.

"Merlin."

"Sire?"

"Do be careful." Leon pulled out a small blade tucked into his belt and handed it to Merlin.

Merlin was a bit baffled by the offering but took it nonetheless with a nod. "Thank you."

And without another word, Leon was off, following his King.

* * *

Leaning forward, pressing his knees in, he encouraged the mare to a full gallop. The wind rushed past him, the long grass whipped around his calves and the world unfolded before him in late autumn colors. He let out a shout as, together, he and the horse sped across the field faster and faster. He would soon be under the cover of the woods, away from the eyes of Camelot. But then Lancelot pulled up beside him and took a hold of his reins.

"Oi! What are you doing?" Merlin cried in dismay as they slowed to a canter.

"What am I doing? What are _you _doing?" Lancelot gently chastised. "You can't tire the horses like this – we have a long way to go."

Merlin grinned. "Not the way I plan on getting there." He made a show of looking around before saying in a stage whisper. "But no one can see."

"We're not traveling by dragon, are we?" the knight asked hesitatingly. Lancelot remembered the enormous beast that saved them from the Dorocha – his sheer size had been intimidating enough but it was the sharpness of his yellow eyes that made him truly uneasy. He had felt exposed and vulnerable under Kilgharrah's unblinking gaze.

"Kilgharrah is not a horse and he'll be the first one to tell you so," Merlin laughed. "I could make him take us but then he'll be all cranky, just as bad as Arthur in the mornings. You wouldn't hear the end of his complaints."

Lancelot shook his head. Only Merlin could talk about the Great Dragon like he was some petulant child.

"We can talk about it when we're in the woods."

Lancelot conceded. It seemed that Merlin favored covers. They continued along at a smart canter, enjoying the light breeze and the quiet until Merlin asked suddenly, "Why do you suppose Leon gave me this blade?"

Lancelot shrugged. "For protection."

"He seemed awfully concerned."

"Why wouldn't he be? You're not a knight and you're off to foreign lands with only one guide."

"With _Sir_ Lancelot," Merlin interrupted.

"Merlin, it's Sir Leon. He has no ulterior motives."

Merlin took the blade out, turning it in the sunlight so it reflected sharp rays of light. "True, but…"

"He likes you."

Merlin lifted an eyebrow. He thought Leon and him got on but he didn't think it warranted special treatment. Of the knights, only Lancelot and Gwaine gave him special treatment. Merlin tucked the blade away, his thoughts having turned towards Gwaine.

"Gwaine didn't come see us off."

Lancelot frowned a bit at this, looking less nonchalant about this topic. "He's angry – you were clearly lying to him and he does not understand why." The knight turned to see Merlin's head turned down, back bowed. It was hard not to feel sympathy for him – he knew Merlin did not want to lie. "But you know how Gwaine's anger is like. All will be forgotten and forgiven by the time you return."

"You're right. I just wish…" Merlin scowled in frustration. It was useless to wish for things that could not be.

"You know, Gwaine wouldn't be angry if he didn't care. He considers you one of his best friends. Why don't you tell him? Surely you trust him?"

"I do. But I should tell Arthur first."

Before Lancelot could say anything in response, Merlin dug his heels into his mare and was soon speeding off towards the woods again.

Lancelot had no choice but to follow.

* * *

They stopped once they were deep in the woods, the undergrowth thick on the ground, the trees dense above. Merlin jumped off his horse and gave her a grateful pat on her neck. Lancelot swung off his own stead, landing next to Merlin. It was clear from the stiffness in the boy's shoulders that he would not be talking about revealing his magic to others anytime soon.

Lancelot just waited while Merlin rummaged through his pack before pulling out a scroll. Merlin unfurled it and showed it to Lancelot. Lancelot could read some but this was filled with strange even strokes that ran up and down. The knight looked curiously at his companion.

"I copied it out of my spell book," Merlin explained. "But I made some adjustments here and there. I've mastered all the spells in my book already so ever since Kilgharrah encouraged me, I've started experimenting a bit, combining spells, applying different elements, that sort of thing." Merlin didn't mention that some of those experiments had resulted in green fingers and talking geese. But at least that had quickly taught him to write down all his adjustments so he could figure out what went wrong and how to replicate certain results.

"Is it like…a transportation spell?"

"Mmmm…not quite."

"Merlin?" There was something about the way Merlin shifted his eyes that put Lancelot on alert.

"I'm going to try bending time and space."

Lancelot felt his eyes go wide. "You're going to…what?" And before Lancelot could say another word, the forest disappeared as a blinding white light consumed them.

* * *

Merlin hadn't expected the sensation of falling. Or of tumbling through time and space, the world composed of only different shades of blue. He felt light-headed and the air was rushing out of his lungs as he fell head over feet, over and over again. He had slingshot them over the middle of the sea.

He tried to think but he could barely breathe. He saw Lancelot in his peripheral vision, falling impossibly fast. As they were about to become loss in the abyss of the sea, his magic saved them.

* * *

They landed on a grassy field. They were south of Camelot's woods now.

Merlin sat up, still feeling light-headed. "Um, oops?" He pulled out his scroll and made some notes.

Meanwhile, Lancelot was on his back, his hands clutching great clumps of dirt and grass as though holding on to it would keep him grounded to the earth. "Merlin…maybe you should have practiced that first. Perhaps over shorter distances."

"Yeah…good idea." With shorter distances, he could see his destination. In this case, he had projected too far. "Maybe I should learn to fly." Why hadn't he thought of that before? Merlin scribbled on his scroll again.

"How did we get here?" Lancelot breathed. He had faced many things and faced them without hesitation, but falling through space was something else entirely.

"Oh, my magic sort of does things on its own. Like, an instinct to fight, I suppose."

"You have your own survival mechanism then? Good. _But_, I think we should walk the rest of the way."

"Walk?"

"Merlin, no offense," Lancelot said, propping himself up on his elbows. "But I don't think I'm up for playing with space and time in the near future."

"But we have horses."

Lancelot looked back at the woods. "We were only an hour into the woods. It would take us a full two days to go back for them."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I already told them to meet up with us."

Lancelot looked at the unassuming skinny young man sitting next to him before throwing his head back and laughing. "I think I like this trick much better."


	5. A Rescue Mission

Chapter 5 – A Rescue Mission

**A/N**: Apologies for the delay in posting – it's been very busy, so busy I haven't even seen any of Series 5! (Btw, I don't think Series 5 is being broadcasted in the States so if you have any suggestions, please let me know! But otherwise, please don't tell me anything about S5. I have been trying to avoid anything that could even be mildly construed as a spoiler). Also, I've been asked to promote Merlin for NTA. I have no idea what that is but I fully support Merlin and think the actors are great so there you are! For someone who writes fanfic based on TV, I am fairly disconnected from TV and the entertainment industry in general. Life has had other plans for me… :/

* * *

Last time…

_Leon also laughed overly loud. He had watched Merlin long enough before approaching him to know that the boy had in fact been reading the book in his hands… so, why was Merlin pretending that he didn't even know he was reading Greek?_

…

_"Why do you suppose Leon gave me this blade?"_

_Lancelot shrugged. "For protection."_

_"He seemed awfully concerned."_

_"Why wouldn't he be? You're not a knight and you're off to foreign lands with only one guide."_

_"With Sir Lancelot," Merlin interrupted._

_"Merlin, it's Sir Leon. He has no ulterior motives."_

* * *

Arthur was _late_.

"Merlin picked a fine time to court a _princess_," Arthur fumed as he hurried towards the castle entrance, George scurrying after him. It was Camelot's turn to host the annual peace meetings and the entire castle had been in a mad rush to prepare for the descent of the royals houses of the neighboring kingdoms. The lords and ladies of his own kingdom were also coming to pay their respects or brown-nose or whatever they did behind and around Arthur's back. And of course Merlin inconsiderately decided to make a fool of himself a kingdom away when he should had been here in Camelot waking him up. While George was perhaps the most efficient servant in all of Camelot, he was not Merlin – he actually _respected_ his king and could not bring himself to use Merlin's unapologetic and forceful methods of waking him up.

Arthur rounded the corner with such force he nearly veered back the way he came. He vaguely heard George sliding after him, but he could not spare a moment to look back. The trumpets were sounding, announcing the arrival of the first contingent, and he was barely crossing the threshold of the entrance.

As soon as he reached the top of the steps, all of his advisors and knights turned towards him. Arthur inwardly groaned, everyone was there – even _Gwaine_.

Arthur walked down as quickly as he could without looking like he was in a rush. It was maddening. The contingent was entering the courtyard but thankfully he would make it to his place before they disembarked. Arthur always felt he was lucky.

"I'm glad you could join us, my lord," Gwen said as she sent her King an amused sideways glance.

Arthur muttered under his breath, "It's Merlin's fault."

His wife laughed. "How can it be Merlin's fault? He isn't here."

"Exactly," Arthur grouched. Then, a thought occurred to him, and he turned fully towards her. "Wait, why didn't _you _wake me up?"

"Because no one other than Merlin is brave enough to do that," Gwen replied cheekily.

"What does that –"

But Gwen interrupted him by delicately clearing her throat and giving him a pointed look. Arthur turned to see King Alined standing before him. Arthur had a practiced smile for people he disliked – he thought it quite good, it looked almost warm, but there was something about the way King Alined looked at him that made him uncomfortable, and Arthur could only manage a grimace. "King Alined," he said overly loud. "It is such a pleasure to have you here."

"I assure you, Arthur, the pleasure is all mine."

Arthur couldn't agree more. But as King Alined was a ruler of one of the Five Kingdoms, Arthur tried to smile again, but from the look on Gwen's face, he knew he wasn't successful.

Once Alined passed, Arthur turned over his shoulder to see what Merlin thought of the man. But Merlin wasn't there. Instead, George stood at attention, inclining his head at Arthur indicating his readiness to serve. Arthur turned away. Even though George had served him several times in the past, and always with great efficiency, whenever Merlin was three sheets to the wind or frolicking in the forest or whatever he did, it was still unnerving to see someone other than Merlin by his side.

Arthur shook his head to clear his thoughts. He had a full day of fake smiles ahead of him.

However, when Lord Godwyn and Princess Elena arrived, Arthur did genuinely smile. Arthur shook Godwyn's hand heartily and promised to find him later. Elena embraced Arthur but not in that laborious, awkward way she did when she was first here in Camelot. It was warm but elegant. She seemed every bit the princess she wasn't before, except when she challenging said, "We should race later." The King made a non-committal reply – he really rather not be beaten by a girl.

"I'll take you upon on that offer," he heard Gwaine say behind him.

Arthur rolled his eyes. Gwaine would take up any offer. He turned to give the knight a severe look but the other man just smiled charmingly at him and threw back his hair.

When Arthur turned back, he saw that Nemeth had arrived. He straightened his back and squared his shoulders. Encounters with Nemeth were always awkward though King Ector never brought up his previous engagement with Mithian. The two kings exchanged some general pleasantries before he stepped aside and said, "And of course you remember my children."

Arthur nodded and stepped forward to shake hands with Prince Ian. Arthur grimaced when the prince stiffly brought up his right hand. Only last year, the heir to the throne had been attacked by bandits while out on patrol along the northeast borders of his lands. He had been overwhelmed and left to die but his wounds were not as mortal as initially feared and he made it through. Still, his right shoulder – his sword side – had been smashed to splinters by a mace and he would never be able to fight again. The handshake Arthur received was limp and weak. Arthur should have reached out with his left, even though it wasn't his dominating arm, so they could've properly shaken hands.

Arthur let go of Ian's hand and the prince dropped it woodenly to his side. Arthur mentally sighed, he was an active king that led his people and defended them with the might of his sword. Even as they tried to forge a future in new ways, this was still his way and the way of many of the other surrounding kingdoms. He could not imagine how it would feel to have your way of life, your means of purpose stripped away from you. To feel useless and invalid, trapped inside yourself. It did not sit well with Arthur.

They stood there in melancholy silence for a moment before Prince Geraint stepped forward, his upbeat and cheerful attitude in stark contrast with his brother's. Arthur recalled meeting the younger man at his wedding reception a few months past. He had charmed all the ladies at court with his dancing skills. A slightly sloshed Nemeth knight had said that Geriant had always been very much the younger son. The responsibilities of a kingdom did not fall to him and he did as he pleased and charmed whom he pleased.

Arthur eyed the sandy-haired prince as he moved to greet Gwen. He was friendly – _very _friendly – but a couple of princesses called to him and the boy was off in a shot. Arthur was satisfied and turned to welcome Princess Mithian, leaning over her hand.

"Wait…" his distracted brain catching up with him. "What are you doing here?" Well, it seemed his brain hadn't caught up enough to stop his tongue.

Mithian gave Arthur an arch look. He tried not to cower – he was, after all, a King and trained to kill since he was born. Just not as well trained with angry women. "Are women not allowed to have a say in matters of war and peace?"

"No. I mean, yes, of course, I mean…your presence is always welcomed, Princess, it's just, I thought Merlin..." Arthur bit his tongue. Though Arthur had played out a dozen humorous scenarios in which Merlin would poorly court the Princess and grumbled to himself enough about it he almost believed it would happen, Arthur wasn't _actually_ going to let Merlin make such a fool of himself. The King had instructed Lancelot to steer Merlin away from Nemeth's castle and to the Labyrinth of Gedref instead so he can pet some unicorns. And if that wasn't enough to get him to forget all about the Princess, Lancelot was supposed to drag him back to Camelot.

"Merlin?" Mithian noticeably cheered and craned her neck to look about the courtyard. "Is he here?"

Arthur tried to process Mithian's apparent interest in his manservant. Maybe she needed something carried for her?

"No," he replied, "he went to um, Nemeth, to..."

At Mithian's stunned look, Arthur knew he had been right all along. Merlin had stupidly misconceived an offhand comment or friendly overture as an official invite by the Princess. He could just imagine his manservant right now picking wildflowers from the side of the road and telling Lancelot how a _princess_ fancied him. He would have to make sure Merlin stayed away long enough so that he wouldn't run into Mithian while she was here.

"He's just…" Arthur began, trying to provide a credible explanation for why his manservant was in Nemeth of all places, but Mithian spoke over him.

"So he finally accepted my invitation! But didn't he know about the peace talks?"

"Wait," Arthur replied, his eyes going wide, "you actually invited him?"

Mithian was not impressed with Arthur. "Yes, I did. Why else would he go?"

"Well, I…"

"When did he leave?"

"Three days ago."

Mithian looked sharply at Arthur for a second before inclining her head. "I see. Well, we must have just missed him."

* * *

Leon knew he would have to stop soon. He had been riding by the light of the moon but as he got deeper and deeper in the woods, the thickening foliage was blocking out more and more of his silver guide. Despite his impatience, he knew it would be dangerous for both him and the horse to continue at they were. After a few more minutes at full gallop, he reluctantly pulled at the reins.

There was a clearing the knights often used in this part of the woods. It was possible that some knights were there now. He hoped that wasn't the case though – he wasn't in the mood for idle chatter.

He dismounted and led his horse to the side of the main road. As he neared the familiar ground, he saw there was a small campfire. Possibly Kay and Ballentine if he recalled the patrol schedule correctly. As a precaution, however, he pulled out his sword.

"I was wondering when you would get here" said a voice behind him.

Leon turned with knightly precision, crouched down with his back to his horse and leveled his sword.

Gwaine just laughed.

"Relax, Leon. You look like you are about to lay an egg."

Leon sighed and stood. "What do you mean?" he said as he shielded his sword and moved to tie his horse.

"Well," Gwaine said, squatting down and holding his hands out as though he was really about to lay an egg. "You looked like this. You can't tell me it doesn't look like an imitation of a giant bird just about to –"

Leon huffed in frustration. He really wasn't in the mood. "No," he interrupted before Gwaine could get descriptive, "I meant, what do you mean you were wondering when I would get here?"

"Well, I expected you."

"That much was obvious, but why? I'm not on the patrol schedule tonight."

"Well, neither am I," the other knight shrugged.

No, he wasn't, Leon thought, blinking. He moved towards the fire. "So, why are you out here?"

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Gwaine winked.

"Uh, I rather not…" Leon replied uneasily.

Gwaine snorted. "I _meant_, you tell me, I tell you. It wasn't meant to be literal."

Leon shook his head and sat heavily on one of the logs around the campfire. Why couldn't people just be straightforward?

"You first."

"No, _I _insist, Sir Leon. You first," Gwaine replied with a sly smile.

Leon frowned at Gwaine's insubordination. Generally, he didn't mind, it was usually just in jest, but he didn't want to play this game right now. He straightened his back and leveled his eyes at the man across the fire. A command was at the tip of his tongue, but then Gwaine was waving a hand in surrender and saying, "No need to get your feathers ruffled, Leon."

He paused before continuing, "That's not literal either. I know why you're here."

Leon stifled an urge to snort at Gwaine's usual confidence. How would Gwaine know why he was here? Even Arthur didn't really know. "Well?" he asked when Gwaine remained silent for once.

"Merlin."

Leon jolted to his feet. "Pardon?"

"Please, do be more obvious," Gwaine snickered. Knights. Sometimes Gwaine couldn't believe he was one. They could only walk the path they were trained to walk. But Leon was a decent man – he treated them based on their loyalty to their sovereign and the strength of their moral code. He didn't care that Lancelot, Percival and Elyan were all commoners. As far as Leon knew, Gwaine was a commoner too. And the former nobleman was well aware how much it mattered to others, even though the King and second-in-command didn't care a whistle – he had the bruises on his fists to prove it.

"Why would you think that?" Leon asked defensively.

"Well, you've taken quite the interest in Merlin lately," Gwaine said as he leaned back. "That is, to say, you've taken a noticeable interest in," the other man started counting with his fingers, "what Merlin does during the day, whether he's been to the sea, if he knows how to read in Latin."

"He does, you know."

"What?" Gwaine's forehead wrinkled in confusion. He much preferred to cause confusion to others.

"Merlin can read Latin. He says he can't but he can."

Gwaine looked at Leon for a moment, trying to figure out where this half-hysterical exclamation came from. The other man was leaning forward with wide eyes, looking as though he was trying to will Gwaine to understand something hidden.

"And Greek. He can read Greek."

Suddenly, it clicked for Gwaine. This was how knights lied. _Badly._

"Okay, you almost distracted me there, Sir Leon," Gwaine said, wagging his finger at the other man. "But let's face it – you're concerned about our little Merlin. People pick on him, treat him unfairly, and you want him to be part of the team. Well, he already is. What you really need to do is really lay it on Ballentine next training season. Not just a little shove on the shoulder, you need to –"

"This is not about _that_. This is about the secret mission!" Leon blurted out.

A silence fell over their campground. Leon initially wasn't sure if he wanted to tell Gwaine any of it, but as it turned out, he needed to tell someone. Leon wasn't used to keeping secrets. It had been clawing at his conscious for nearly a week. Taking action probably would have settled him but he was stuck here until dawn and while Gwaine wasn't his first choice as a confident, at the very least, he was Merlin's friend.

"Really, there's no need to be so dramatic about it," Gwaine said, laughing softly.

"Well, if you're not concerned about it, then why are you here?" Leon stood with a huff.

Gwaine shrugged. "I just got off patrol schedule and I'm not on guard duty for these peace-time parades. For some reason, Arthur doesn't trust me when it comes to _politics_." Gwaine said as a self-satisfied smile settled on his face. "So, why not?"

"Because he clearly didn't want you to come," Leon replied.

Gwaine's smile dropped off his face. "Rub salt in the wound, Leon. It's not like _you_ were invited either."

"Sorry," Leon sighed, recalling Gwaine's rather dramatic reaction on the training field a few days ago. "But really, why are you going?"

"I don't follow instructions very well."

"You want to know what it's all about," Leon countered.

"Hey, I want to help, too!" Gwaine insisted, finally sitting up a bit. "Merlin would do the same for me." Why Merlin took Sir Prissy instead of him was beyond Gwaine, but the knight had to concede that Merlin and Lancelot shared a longer history. And in that history, there was something else… The two were always exchanging knowing glances and whispering together in shadowy corners. Gwaine doubted it was anything untoward – it was _Merlin _and _Lancelot _after all – but maybe to their sheltered senses, it seemed big, like Lancelot had a sixth toe or something. Gwaine shook his hair out of his eyes and eyed Leon. "And what about you?"

Leon looked uneasy. To Gwaine, it looked like he was going to lay an egg again. "Arthur confided in me the details of Merlin's trip. Apparently…Merlin went to visit Princess Mithian on her invitation."

"Well, that's obviously a lie."

"It is?"

"Do _you_ believe it?"

"Well…" Even if Leon hadn't overheard Merlin last week, he wouldn't have believed such a story. Merlin just wasn't….well, Leon supposed he didn't know Merlin as well as he thought he knew him, but the idea that he would ride out to court a princess was just too preposterous. But it was just well…Arthur seemed to believe it.

"Arthur believes it," Gwaine supplied for Leon.

At Leon's hesitant nod, Gwaine chortled. "He's really a clotpole sometimes, isn't he?"

"He has no reason to distrust Merlin," Leon defended.

"No, he doesn't. But if Merlin was going to go after a girl, he would've taken me. I can provide _much _better advice than Lancelot of all people."

Leon raised a question brow at Gwaine. Leon knew if he were a courting a woman, he would _never _take Gwaine with him – the man had a habit of taking off his shirt, throwing his hair around and sending women into swoons with his roguish smile. Indeed, it seemed _more _likely that Merlin was really going after the Princess based on Gwaine's logic.

"Well, what do you think he's up to?"

Gwaine shrugged. "With Merlin, who knows? But it doesn't matter if he's off to fight dragons or pick flowers for a girl. I'll be his strength, I'll slay the dragon or hold the basket. I can do either so I will."

Leon smiled at Gwaine's unwavering loyalty for the boy. Gwaine often played the part of bawdy drunkard but when it came down to it, he had the heart of a knight.

"Obviously," Leon said after a moment, "Princess Mithian is here and Arthur doesn't want Merlin to get the wrong idea of what could become of the two of them. He thinks once they reach Nemeth and realize the Princess is in Camelot, they will turn back and Merlin will try to court her here. He suggested that I ride out and greet Merlin and Lancelot in a few days to intercept them."

"Taking care of Merlin's heart, I see. A bit obvious, huh?" Gwaine smiled.

"You're not the only one who cares for Merlin."

"Evidently. You care, too – you left a bit early, haven't you?"

"Well, Arthur doesn't know…" Leon didn't like to confess that he was doing something his sovereign hadn't expressly approved.

"Doesn't know?" Gwaine prodded.

"He doesn't know what Merlin is up to."

"So you do?"

Leon hesitated. He wasn't proud of his behavior but if Gwaine was also going after Merlin too, the other knight deserved to know the truth. "Not exactly, picking flowers for all I know. But I overheard him and Lancelot talking about the trip. I became suspicious –"

"Suspicious of Merlin?" Gwaine interrupted, standing up so he was towering over Leon for once. "There's no one more loyal to Arthur or Camelot."

"Of course not! I'm not suspicious of _that_! I think he's trying to fall on his own sword to protect us." Leon put out a hand. The other knight probably didn't even realize he had been reaching for the pommel of his sword. Leon had actually _tried _considering it – one could never be too cautious, particularly in light of what had happened with Morgana and Agravaine – but no matter how he examined Merlin and his actions over the past several years, he could not find any evidence of disloyalty or anything untoward. If Merlin wanted to rain his vengeance down on Arthur or Camelot, he had had plenty of opportunity to do it. Instead, the boy was still stupidly throwing himself in front of the King like a human shield. Leon could only conclude that Merlin played the part of the fool so he could stay at Arthur's side.

Gwaine nodded. "Alright. So, we ride after him then."

"Yes, at first light."

* * *

"What are you doing?"

"Drinking ale. Want some?" Gwaine asked, offering the flask.

"But we're on a rescue mission! And it's barely dawn!"

"More reason to drink," Gwaine said with a grin before he tipped the flask again.

Leon shook his head before turning back to his horse and finishing the tack. "We're going to have go full speed to make up for the lost time. They were three days ahead of us."

"Don't worry. They can't be that far. I've seen Merlin on a horse, he just plods along. We will catch up with them in no time."

"I prefer not to leave anything to chance. For all we know, Merlin could be a fine horseman."

Gwaine lifted his eyebrows. "Oh, c'mon, Leon, next thing you'll tell me is that Merlin is a secret assassin. This is about the Greek thing, isn't it? You're really caught up on that."

Leon frowned. Why wouldn't he be? Ever since he caught Merlin reading in Greek, he had begun seeing and thinking about Merlin in an entirely different light. And there seemed to be a lot more to Merlin than he had been willing to see before. "You don't think it's odd?"

"What Merlin does in his spare time is his business."

Leon looked pointedly at Gwaine. They were going after him like two mother hens.

"Well, okay, okay," Gwaine said, putting his hands up. "As long as he is not going on a stupid quest where he could be risking life or limb, what Merlin does in his spare time is his business. He wants to learn Greek, let him learn Greek in peace."

"You have to concede it's unusual for a servant to read Greek though? Most commoners don't even know how to read."

"Well, yes, but just because he's a commoner doesn't make him common."

"I think we can all agree to that," a strong but feminine voice carried itself across the clearing. Both Gwaine and Leon pulled out their swords immediately.

Sitting on a pure white horse sat a woman with strikingly beautiful features – wide dark eyes, pale ivory skin, long brown hair tumbling over a fitted white tunic – the Princess Mithian. She nodded at both of the knights, seemingly unconcerned about the swords pointed her way. "We're coming with you."

It was only when she spoke that Leon noticed the rider behind her – the sandy haired Prince Geraint. He didn't think the prince was the sort to be up before midday.

"I beg your pardon, your highness and sire," Leon said, clearing his throat and bowing to each. "We are on a quest and will be unable to escort you about Camelot today."

"We're quite aware of your quest and we're coming with you," she said, repeating her earlier statement.

Gwaine and Leon exchanged looks. Gwaine shrugged his shoulders, indicating that he was unsure what she meant.

"My lady, I'm afraid you can't accompany us. We are about to embark on a journey of a personal nature and…"

"You're going after Merlin."

Leon and Gwaine could not hide their surprise.

"We're coming with you," she said firmly.

"Now, Princess, I…

Geraint brought his horse forward and spoke up. It was the first time the knights had ever seen him serious. "If you will not let us come with you, then we will journey separately. But if Merlin is in Nemeth, we have the advantage of knowing our terrain. Wouldn't it be better if we worked as a team to make sure he is safe?"

"But why are going after Merlin?" Gwaine asked, scratching the back of his head.

"He told the King he was visiting me. Let's not make a liar out of him." Without another word, Princess Mithian turned her horse and led it out of the clearing without a backward glance.


	6. A Foreigner (part a)

Chapter 6a – A Foreigner

**A/N**: Soo….I still haven't seen s5. But Lancelot kept galloping in my head and I was writing so many little parts of this chapter that I ended up writing the whole thing more or less. Also, I know I've been writing Merlin a little young (and am thankful for the feedback there and have been trying to adjust going forward) but I did want to note that I imagined him in his early twenties in this fic (I might be a little off but as I'm being careful not to read anything that could be a spoiler, I'm a little restricted to memory for some things). Also, when the knights banter, I find they sound like twelve year olds (and I love it so I'm trying to replicate it here so perhaps that's also making them appear young?). Please enjoy and please let me know if further adjustments are needed. Many thanks for reading!

* * *

Last time…

_[Lancelot] wanted to watch Merlin, see more than the few tricks he caught now and then, but more than that, he wanted to protect him, so he only looked at Merlin in passing as he scanned the forest around them for any intruders._

_…_

_"What are you capable of?" Lancelot asked as he adjusted his grip on the tired warlock._

_Merlin huffed out a short laugh. "Even I don't know."_

_"Are you concerned that it's a trap? Or that you are wrong?"_

* * *

"It doesn't taste like an apple," Lancelot said as he chewed thoughtfully on the fruit. "But it no longer tastes like a pear anymore either."

"Well, of course not. It's now a papple!" Merlin declared, standing on his stirrups and holding his own magically altered fruit aloft. He nearly tipped over but thankfully Lancelot's horse was close enough all the knight had to do was put an arm out and gently tip Merlin back the other way.

"You can't seriously call it a papple," Lancelot said once Merlin had straightened himself.

"I can't?" It sounded like a great name to him. "What would you call it?"

"A pear apple?" he suggested.

Merlin groaned. "That's so boring."

Lancelot shrugged, not the least bit offended. "Maybe you can try a grapple."

"A grapple!" Merlin nodded enthusiastically. He pulled out another apple from his pack to see if he could turn it into an apple-grape hybrid. He speared the fruit with the blade Leon had given him and held it between him and Lancelot. Lancelot nodded at him encouragingly.

Even now Merlin knew that the past few days of traveling with Lancelot would be something he would never forget. There had been nothing extraordinary about their journey thus far – well, except for maybe that mishap in the beginning – however, Merlin hadn't practiced magic this openly in a long time. He didn't have many opportunities to leave Camelot and confer with Kilgharrah, busy as he was sticking by Arthur's side to make sure he stayed alive. And when he was with Gaius, the physician often cautioned him against using magic when it wasn't needed. But that was just it – magic was his oldest companion, a part of him, so he did need it – he needed to acknowledge it, practice it, embrace it. But in Camelot, he had to resort to using it alone, behind closed doors or from the shadows. Gaius often warned Merlin about being careless but Gaius didn't know just how much restraint Merlin had to exercise when magic was humming at his fingers every second.

But here with Lancelot, away from Camelot, he didn't have to cast it alone or in the dark. He didn't have to think about the consequences of being himself. He could start their campfires with a flick of his wrist, bend the trees together to shelter them from the wind, and alter the composition of their food to make their meals more interesting. Lancelot had never shied away from Merlin's magic but he never expressed his curiosity about it either. And as Merlin had learned, Lancelot was actually _very _curious about it. And very encouraging – even thinking of ways to broaden and strengthen Merlin's abilities.

Just last night, when it had started to rain, Lancelot had paused in the midst of taking off his boot and asked Merlin, "Does it have to rain?"

"Sorry?" Merlin asked, turning his head. He had been instructing the branches to move together to create a canopy of leaves above them.

The knight lifted an eyebrow. "You're not even concentrating."

"I just gave you my full attention," Merlin protested.

"No, I mean, _that_," the knight said, pointing at the canopy weaving on its own above them.

Merlin merely struggled. They were following a pattern, he didn't need to be monitoring it.

"I was saying though…" Lancelot pointed up again but where the sky was still open and visible and the rain was coming down silver in the moonlight. "Couldn't you stop it from raining?"

"Well, I…" Merlin contemplated the night above them. "I didn't think of it." He had once called lightening from the sky and it had rained afterwards. It wasn't quite changing the weather so much as the consequence of another act. Changing the weather entirely, changing nature – it seemed like a step further and he didn't have a guide. He turned back to Lancelot and said as much.

"But that's the thing," Lancelot had replied, "you do change nature." The knight held up Merlin's latest fruit experiment. "You change everything."

And so, Merlin had looked up at the sky and made it stop raining.

It had reminded him of his days in Ealdor, when he was unaware of the destiny that would one day weigh on his shoulders, and he would do tricks in the woods with Will. It was another time when he was fully accepted by someone who wasn't tied to him by the threads of destiny or the kinship of magic. It was a simpler yet somehow, stronger bond. And it all made Merlin realize that he not only valued Lancelot's friendship, he needed it. Destiny was a powerful force and an undeniable call as Gaius and Kilgharrah often reminded him. But it was not comforting and reassuring like a strong clap on the shoulder by your mate right before you faced the world together. He needed support and acceptance, he needed someone to walk with him, and he needed them to know that it wasn't out of duty or providence, it was out of admiration, respect, trust and the deepest of friendships.

"Alright, here goes." And as Merlin whispered a spell, his eyes glowed gold. The apple began to transform, rounding and changing color. Lancelot leaned closer – this time, he was the one who almost overbalanced.

Suddenly, Merlin dropped the blade and plucked an arrow from the air. It would have hit Lancelot between the eyes.

The two looked at each other for a split second before they put their hands out to push the other one off their respective horses. They ended up pulling each other clumsily to the ground as another arrow shot through the air where they had just been. Merlin stood up and Lancelot scrambled to pull the warlock down, but before he could even reach Merlin, their shooter was flying from his hiding place on the wooded hillside.

Merlin's eyes burned a dangerous gold.

Lancelot pulled out his sword as the man hit the ground. It was meant to be a precautionary move, but their assailant was on his feet as though he merely stumbled, not flew twenty meters in the air. The double-headed axe that had been strapped to his hip was now in his hand, gleaming in the sunlight. The two armed men charged at each other.

If the situation weren't so dire, Merlin would have sighed in frustration. He could've easily dealt with the man but now that Lancelot was in close quarters with the stranger, Merlin could not hit him with a blast of pure magic. The warlock instead aimed for the head of the axe. The two men continued fighting. He aimed again. Nothing.

His magic wasn't working.

Merlin felt panic grip him, sudden and strong. He swallowed hard, as though he could swallow his panic. It didn't seem to do anything, but he did not have time to dwell on his feelings or even his magic, he had to help Lancelot somehow.

The clash of steel on steel echoed loudly in the clearing. Merlin had to sidestep the two as the battle was pushed towards him. The warlock tripped on his own feet and hit the ground. He saw the blade that Leon had given him but the horses were stomping over it. He cast his eyes about for another weapon. One of the arrows was also under the horses' hooves but the other one was further away, buried in the ground.

Merlin dashed towards the second arrow and pulled it from its place. The man seemed to know Merlin was behind him and swung back with his axe. Merlin hit the ground again, but this time, on purpose. He heard Lancelot's frantic shout, the other man's grunt, but somehow it seemed far away as he angled his arm up and jabbed the arrow into the man's sword arm.

Merlin hoped that it would distract the man enough that Lancelot could disarm him. But it seemed unnecessary – the man seized up, his eyes opened wide and he dropped to the floor.

Lancelot rushed forward and pulled Merlin away and pushed him behind him.

"What did you do?"

"I stabbed him with an arrow." Merlin peered over Lancelot's shoulder. The man was flat on his back and unmoving. "He should be…fine?"

"He doesn't look fine."

"Very observant, thanks.

"Was it a poisoned arrow?"

"I don't know, it wasn't my arrow!"

Lancelot and Merlin looked at each other. They had been shot at with poisoned arrows. Lancelot started to step towards the body, but Merlin put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"I'm not sure he's dead."

Lancelot looked at the man. He was already rigid. "He looks pretty dead."

"There was something odd about him though." Merlin stepped in front of Lancelot but the knight quickly pushed him back. "Let me try something!" Merlin pushed Lancelot. The knight barely moved. "Oh, this is ridiculous – you know what I'm capable of." But he didn't try moving around Lancelot again. Instead, he reached around the man and rustled the leaves around the body. He then moved the body a few meters. He used a stick and poked at it. And again.

"Okay, Merlin…"

"I think he's dead."

"Yeah."

"But…" And this time Merlin walked towards the fallen axe. As he got closer, he realized why his magic wasn't working on it. It wasn't the man. It was the axe. The weapon hummed as he drew closer. He leaned down and picked it up. It burned in his hand and he dropped it, but it was too late, black smoke was already curling from the palm of his hand.

"Merlin, are you alright?" Lancelot took Merlin by the wrist to look at his injured palm – it was black as night. Lancelot sucked in a breath but the next moment, he let out a low whistle. The skin was rapidly healing itself, the blackness peeling away to reveal pink new skin. It was like watching a flower bloom in six seconds instead of a season.

"I heal fast," Merlin offered.

"That is quite the understatement, my friend," Lancelot laughed.

But Merlin didn't join in. This caused Lancelot to pause and he took in the dark look on his friend's face.

"That axe…?"

"Yes, it is magical. But it's dark magic. Someone made that with bad intentions." Merlin walked away from the axe and towards the man. He studied him – he wasn't dressed like anyone from around these parts. The dark leathers and the furs seemed to indicate he was from a colder climate. His skin was weather beaten and dark – it looked like it ran seamlessly into the leather. And the beard. He leaned forward to get a better look.

Lancelot watched as the warlock studied the body with great concentration. Was he making sure the man was dead still? Could dark magic bring him back to life? Again, Lancelot pulled out his sword.

"Oh, he's dead, Lance. It's just…" Suddenly, Merlin straightened and looked at Lancelot with wide eyes. "Oh.

"Oh?"

"I've seen him before."

"You know him? He was purposely targeting you?" Lancelot adjusted his grip on his sword. Even though the man was dead already, he wanted to take a run at him. Why would anyone want to hurt Merlin?

"No, no, that's not what I meant. I've _met _people who look like him. I think I…" Merlin paused and when he spoke again, it was in a low whisper. "We better move. Now."

* * *

**A/N**: So, not much of an action writer but I hope that was passable. I'll definitely be practicing in this fic! Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think.


	7. A Foreigner (part b)

Chapter 6b – A Foreigner 

**A/N**: One more chapter of Lancelot / Merlin bromance. But next chapter we'll get back to Gwaine, Leon, Mithian and Geriant! We need to see what they are up to and with Gwaine, it's no good, of course.

* * *

Last time…

_…[Arthur] had instructed Lancelot to steer Merlin away from Nemeth's castle and to the Labyrinth of Gedref instead so he can pet some unicorns. And if that wasn't enough to get him to forget all about the Princess, Lancelot was supposed to drag him back to Camelot…_

_…Merlin walked towards the fallen axe. As he got closer, he realized why his magic wasn't working on it. It wasn't the man. It was the axe. The weapon hummed as he drew closer. He leaned down and picked it up. It burned in his hand and he dropped it, but it was too late, black smoke was already curling from the palm of his hand…_

_…"I've met people who look like him. I think I…" Merlin paused and when he spoke again, it was in a low whisper. "We better move. Now."_

* * *

They rode without stopping. Even when darkness fell, they pressed on. Merlin guided them with a white-blue light held in the palm of his hand. Lancelot tried to keep his focus on the road ahead of them but his eyes kept sliding towards the light. After being distracted for longer than he should, Lancelot realized his reins were slack and he was barely keeping posture. But it didn't matter – the horse continued at a gallop, moving through the shadows as though its rider was skillfully guiding it. More like, Merlin was guiding it, Lancelot thought.

With perhaps more abandonment than he would generally allow, Lancelot let go of his reins. He leaned over to study the light. It barely reached the tips of Merlin's fingers but it seemed full of power. Lancelot wasn't sure why this relatively minor bit of magic stirred his interest more than anything else. After all, he had seen Merlin accomplish incredible feats of magic thus far, he commanded animals, the elements and the sky with a glow of his eyes.

As Lancelot continued to stare at it, he realized that something about it calmed him despite its energy. They were running from some unknown danger, racing against time to learn about a storm to come, and he was leaning sloppily against his horse's neck, looking at a light. It came to him slowly, as though he was walking in the woods and found a door that he just edged open, but when the door was wide enough for him to peek through, he sucked in his breathe as he was propelled back to a forgotten time.

Lancelot remembered little of his youth. Much of his memories were buried with the rest of his village. When an old memory did resurface, it was often accompanied by a sense of loss, the smell of burning flesh, and the chaotic sounds of the massacre that had shaped the rest of his life. Sometimes, like now, an old memory would come to him that reminded him there was a time in his youth when he had been happy, not alternatively lost or driven.

He didn't remembered what his father looked like, couldn't even say if he looked like him, but now he could almost remember the rough cloth of his trousers under his hands when he used to sit on his lap at night. He remembered his small hand reaching for the flickering flame of the candle on the worktable before his father gently pulled his hand back.

He had squirmed in his father's lap but his father distracted him by asking, "What color is the candle, Lancelot?"

"O-oo-ange!"

His father's chuckle was deep. Low and deep, he now remembered.

"Not just orange, my child. Look again. It is made of many colors. Red at the tip. White-blue at the bottom. They say that's where it is hottest and burns brightest. It's the very heart of the flame."

"Lancelot…whoa, Lancelot." Merlin was waving a hand in front of his face.

The knight blinked. The light was no longer there.

"Something the matter?"

"Sorry, I was just remembering something." He still felt dazed. It was as though he had lived that memory while he was remembering it.

Merlin frowned. He had never seen Lancelot look so out of sorts before. He had barely been riding his horse when Merlin had glanced back to look at him. The knight didn't even seem to notice that they slowed to a standstill. "Was yours a bad memory?" Merlin ventured.

"No. No, it wasn't." Lancelot smiled but the vestige of a certain sorrow still remained with him. Merlin felt like he didn't know his friend as much as he ought, that he took for granted how steady he always seemed to be.

"It was…a memory of my father. I..I-don't have many memories of him. I was surprised that I remembered is all."

Merlin nodded in understanding and put a sympathetic hand on Lancelot's shoulder.

"Thank you, my friend."

Merlin brushed it off. "You don't need to thank me. You would've lent an ear or a hand to me at anytime."

"I still want to thank you all the same."

Merlin accepted his thanks this time and each of them picked up their reins again. Lancelot readied his horse for a gallop but Merlin shook his head. "We're almost there anyway."

Lancelot finally looked around them. The sky was beginning to lighten, the last traces of night being chased away by the dawn. The edge of the forest was behind them and in front of them was a large hedge raising far above their heads.

"The Labyrinth of Gedref," Merlin announced.

Lancelot tilted his head at the irony of the situation. Arthur had instructed him to take Merlin here. At the time, the knight had conveniently omitted a relevant fact - he didn't know what the Labyrinth was or where it was. Now, he was standing before it.

"C'mon, they will never be able to follow us through there," Merlin was saying.

They had been so busy riding that they had not been able to discuss why they were running in the first place. But regardless of the danger, they had a quest to complete and as a knight, it was second nature for Lancelot to take the straightest path. A maze hardly seemed to be the straightest path.

"It could take us ages to get through this," Lancelot cautioned. "Unless…" he said, tilting his head towards his friend, "you have some tricks up your sleeve."

"I doubt my magic would work properly in there. But it should be fine. The unicorns can help us."

"The unicorns?" Lancelot asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes. I've been waiting to pet one again for ages!"

* * *

The unicorns were magnificent. He had never seen creatures so pure. He could even _feel _their purity rolling off of them and into him, cleansing and lifting him from inside out. Was this akin to the feelings Merlin experienced each time he interacted with another magical creature? It was heady.

The keeper of the unicorns appeared beside Lancelot. The knight was proud of himself for only flinching. The first time Anhora came out of thin air, Lancelot had jumped back a good number of meters and gotten tangled in the hedge.

"You should ride him. He will take you where you need to be."

Lancelot hesitated. They had to send their horses back as the only creatures allowed in the Labyrinth were unicorns. But it didn't seem proper to ride such a beautiful creature. He suppressed the excitement he felt at the offer and opened his mouth to decline.

That is, until Merlin swung on a unicorn and waved at him to do the same with enthusiasm.

"Well…I guess I will then."

Anhora nodded at him, a small flicker of a smile crossing his face. It was gone so fast Lancelot wondered if he had imagined it.

"Only those pure of heart can ride a unicorn," the keeper said, looking at each of them. "God speed with your quest."

Lancelot and Merlin continued on their way in companionable silence. Having recently relived a memory of his father he thought he had long forgotten, Lancelot couldn't help but wonder what his father would think of his son now. Lancelot was now traveling into the heart of the flame.

The knight glanced over at Merlin, who was deep in thought. He suddenly realized he didn't know much about Merlin's father. He knew about his close relationship with his mother back in Ealdor but Merlin never mentioned his father. He wondered if it was a sore memory.

"What is it?"

"Sorry," Lancelot replied, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to bother you. I'll look the other way."

He turned away but he couldn't help whip back his head around when Merlin said, "You had a question."

"How did you know?

"I sensed it."

"You have a magical and non-magical sense?" Lancelot wondered if there were any true limits to Merlin's power.

"I think I'm just sensitive."

"Well, Arthur would certainly agree."

"Haha, very funny," Merlin deadpanned but in the next moment, he was grinning. "So, c'mon, what is it?"

"It's nothing," Lancelot said too quickly. He didn't want to pry.

"And you tell me I'm a terrible liar," Merlin gently scolded.

"Touché," Lancelot replied. "Alright, but you don't have to answer, you know."

Merlin nodded in understanding.

"I was just wondering…about your father."

"Ah," Merlin said. His expression wasn't readable.

"Forget about it. I'm sorry," Lancelot said, turning away again.

"No, it's fine. I can't really talk about him because…well, Arthur knew him."

"Pardon?" That was certainly not what Lancelot expected Merlin to say.

Merlin gave him a sad half-smile. "My father used to be Uther's ally before Uther betrayed him and pursued him beyond the borders of Camelot. Drove him from my mother and me. I didn't know who he was until Arthur was sent out to find him. He was the last dragonlord."

"Dragon_lord_?" He had never heard the title before but it was pretty much self-explanatory. "Does that make you a dragonlord too?"

"Yes," Merlin said, as though he was acknowledging that the sky was blue. "The gift is passed on from father to son when the father dies."

"He died saving the kingdom?"

Merlin looked towards the sky when he answered. "He died saving my life."

Lancelot put a sympathetic hand on Merlin's shoulder, just as Merlin had done for him a couple of hours earlier.

"Kilgarrah was his dragon." Even though Merlin was not facing him, Lancelot could see the corners of his mouth lifting a bit. "So, the Great Dragon isn't just a friend, he's kin, he's the link between my father and me. Sometimes, when I'm with Kilgarrah, I can hear my father speaking to me in my mind."

Lancelot blinked at this revelation.

"It sounds crazy, doesn't it?" Merlin smiled sheepishly and looked down.

"No…uh…" Well, yes, Merlin's father spoke to him across the realm of death. But as Lancelot was accepting, nothing was impossible or far-fetched when it came to Merlin. So, then, the answer was no after all. Before he could say anything further, the unicorns turned the final corner and they were before their destination – the sea.

Merlin immediately got off his unicorn and collected his things. He gave the creature a pat and the unicorn bowed to him before trotting back to the Labyrinth. Merlin was already heading towards the sea before Lancelot even had a chance to dismount. The knight scrambled down. His unicorn nuzzled him a bit before also taking off.

Merlin was knee deep in the waters by the time Lancelot had gotten to the edge of the sea. The warlock was holding the double-headed axe out and away from him, the handle carefully wrapped in the blue cloak Arthur had given him. At first, Anhora refused to allow the weapon in the Labyrinth – he, like Merlin, had sensed the dark magic built in it, but after what Lancelot suspected was a conversation in each other's minds – now that he knew those with magic could do such things – Anhora had broken the long stare and nodded. Apparently, Merlin had convinced the other sorcerer that taking the axe with them was important.

"What are you trying to do?" Lancelot asked as he too walked into the sea.

"Trace the man's origins through his weapon," Merlin shouted over the sound of the crashing waves. "If I can trace a message, then surely I can figure out a way to trace these men through this axe."

"Men? Oh, you said you've seen men like them before."

"Yes."

When Merlin didn't offer anything more, Lancelot ventured, "I've been suspecting raiders from the north."

"That was my initial thought, too. The way they dressed indicated they were from a colder climate. But perhaps they expected to come to a colder climate?"

"It's something else that gave it away," Lancelot stated, knowing that Gaius had instilled a discipline in Merlin that had little room for blind guessing.

"He had salt in his beard."

"Salt?" Lancelot looked at the warlock. "So he came here by sea."

Merlin nodded slowly. "And like I said, this is not the first time I've seen men that looked like him, dressed like him. They travel in packs, Lancelot. They are mostly mercenaries. And if all that isn't bad enough, they have magic."

Merlin suddenly stiffened and his eyes burned gold. "There," he said thickly. "They are coming by sea from the southeast direction. There are hun – ah, no, _thousands_… of them." Merlin's arms shook from trying to handle the axe. He finally let it drop and the bladed head fell under the water.

Thousands. Invading by sea. With magic.

Lancelot tried to absorb this information but another thought rose unbidden and took precedent. "You don't think they called you here, do you? They lured you?" Lancelot asked with concern.

Merlin shook his head. "No, this is not the magic that called me. I can feel it. But this is the storm that is coming, Lancelot. This is what the message is about."

"Yes," Lancelot nodded solemnly.

"But the message didn't come from that direction. It came from the west. And it said there is hope." Merlin had looked tired and nervous the moment before but he suddenly straightened his back and stood at his full height. "We will find hope in the west."

Lancelot nodded, putting his hand on Merlin's shoulder. "We will. You lead and I shall follow."

Merlin felt his chest swell with gratitude. "Thank you." Taking a deep breath and carefully gripping the handle of the axe with the cloak, Merlin walked further into the water. "Ready for our journey at sea then?"

"Uh, so…we're trying that spell again?" Lancelot asked hesitantly.

Merlin couldn't help but laugh. "I had another idea. I thought we would go by ship."

Lancelot smiled in relief but as he assessed the empty shoreline, he frowned. "What ship?"

"The ship I'm going to call from the sea. The _Argo_."

And suddenly, the sun burned brighter and the winds embraced them as Merlin's eyes went from blue to gold and a ship from the past rose from the depths, its prow breaking the surface of the sea, sending white crested waves in each direction.

The Argo.


	8. A Grapple Away

Chapter 7 – A Grapple Away

**A/N**: Apologies for the delay in posting! I was traveling and for some reason I thought I might have some free time to write and post. Apparently I was wrong. Thank you for PMing me and leaving me reviews to show your continued interest in this story. I hope to get back to a more regular posting schedule.

I've been asked by several readers to address why Leon is so surprised that Merlin can read Greek. I did some initial research prior to writing this fic and found that in the early Middle Ages, education was usually reserved for the clergy and those of noble birth. I dug a little deeper and you'll find some more details incorporated in the story. However, I have to admit I didn't do very in-depth research or do a lot of cross-checking. There's a lot of variation depending on the period and geography and well, more time researching is less time available for writing, so hopefully there's enough here to address your comments.

Thanks again for reading and enjoy!

* * *

Last time…

_"We're coming with you," [Mithian] said firmly._

_"Now, Princess, I…_

_Geraint brought his horse forward and spoke up. It was the first time the knights had ever seen him serious. "If you will not let us come with you, then we will journey separately. But if Merlin is in Nemeth, we have the advantage of knowing our terrain. Wouldn't it be better if we worked as a team to make sure he is safe?"_

…

_Taking a deep breath and carefully gripping the handle of the axe with the cloak, Merlin walked further into the water. "Ready for our journey at sea then?"_

_"Uh, so…we're trying that spell again?" Lancelot asked hesitantly. _

_Merlin couldn't help but laugh. "I had another idea. I thought we would go by ship."_

* * *

They had been riding hard for days and there was still no sign of Merlin and Lancelot. No track patterns indicating a pair of galloping horses, no burnt out campfires, no forgotten neckerchiefs. And, no one they had met on the road so far had seen the pair.

"Really big ears," Gwaine was saying, cupping his own with his hands. "And messy black hair. Blue eyes."

"He has a very endearing smile," Mithian threw in.

Geriant snorted beside her but Gwaine nodded enthusiastically. "He does. It makes you happy, too. It's like having a pup look at you."

The peasant threw them an incredulous look before scurrying around them through the underbrush.

"Oi, what's your problem?" The dark haired knight shouted after him.

Leon sighed and gestured for the group to move on. He was becoming increasingly concerned he was going to pull all his hair out. How could there be no signs of the pair? How had no one seen them on this road?

"What if they didn't go to Nemeth after all?"

Gwaine turned around. In almost any other situation, he would have been amused by the state of Leon's hair which was a mass of curls above his head. "You heard him say as much."

"I know, but how…" Leon sighed, using one hand to gesture at the road and the other to pull his hair.

"He did," Mithian and Geriant said at the same time, causing both Gwaine and Leon to turn towards them.

"He's going to the sea by Gederf," Geriant elaborated.

"How do you know?" Gwaine asked with a raised brow. How many people were eavesdropping on Merlin?

"Because we…uh…" Geriant didn't know how to explain it and he felt his gut twist uneasily. But as always, his sister came to his rescue.

"They may not have taken the main road," Mithian said as she moved her horse between her brother and the knights. She did not turn to look at Geriant but gazed steadily at the Camelot knights. She hoped her attempt at deflection would work.

"But why wouldn't they?" Gwaine asked.

"Perhaps Merlin wanted to pick some flowers," she said imperiously. "In any case, Sir Leon saw them depart in this direction." She turned to Leon who nodded. "With the mountains to the north and the swamps to the south, it would have taken them a tremendous amount of time to head in a different direction without going through Camelot. Surely they wouldn't risk going back to Camelot again if they were going to go somewhere else?"

Gwaine studied Mithian and wondered if there was such a thing as a princess look. His specialty were barmaids so he couldn't say if all princesses were trained to look obnoxiously all-knowing but Elena had a similar look on her face when she talked about horse riding. Still, Mithian's reasoning was sound. And even if they knew where else Merlin and Lancelot might have gone, it would've been impossible to follow at this point.

Well, at least he got to spend some time with a beautiful woman. "Well then, lead on, Princess," he said, smiling roguishly at her.

She passed him without a second look.

He moved to follow but then Geriant was at his side. "You wouldn't be able to handle her."

"Is that a challenge?"

"No, you're _definitely _not her type," Geraint laughed.

That really sounded like a challenge to Gwaine.

* * *

The tavern was a welcome sight to the travelers. It had rained the night before and they had been forced to sleep on the wet ground.

Mithian had worn her traveling dress but it had not held up against the weather. "Neither has your hair," Gwaine teased, pulling at a knot in her hair.

"Good thing there is no one here to impress."

"Oh, you wound me," Gwaine replied, hand over his heart.

"I have a dagger for that," she said with a raised eyebrow.

Gwaine only smiled in response. He was liking Mithian more and more. She had a lot of fight in her. He hadn't given her much credit the first time she came to Camelot – she seemed to like _Arthur_ after all – but Gwen did share the same fault and the Queen was still quite lovely.

He was about to tease her even more when he realized the tavern they were approaching was a familiar one. He looked back at his companions and announced, "Oi, I know this place!"

"That's hardly a surprise," Leon replied drily.

"Fair enough," Gwaine shrugged. "But this is the tavern where I met Merlin and Arthur. I'd consider this a lucky tavern. They have some rooms upstairs. The barmaid was quite taken with me – I bet we can get them easily enough."

After taking care of the horses, the group entered the tavern. The place was lively and loud. Leon hoped that with all the revelry they would not draw much attention but that was nearly impossible. He was quite tall and the red cloak was noticeable. Gwaine swaggered when he walked. The princess, even covered in mud, was still a beauty to behold and Geriant looked too fresh and youthful amongst this rougher crowd. However invested the patrons were in their own merrymaking before, it was almost quiet by the time they reached the bar.

"Well, aren't yer lot a spectacle?" the barmaid huffed.

"Oh, my sweet, don't you remember me?" Gwaine said as he pushed forward to lean against the counter.

The barmaid squinted at the knight. "Ain't yah the cad that drank too much and n'ver paid?"

Gwaine straightened up. "No, you must be thinking of someone else."

Leon stepped forward. "Do you have rooms available, madam?" He looked pointedly at Gwaine before saying, "We can pay upfront."

"Ay, for that, we can manage for yer. Anything else?"

"Ale."

"Food."

"Merlin."

"A bath!"

They all had responded at the same time. Mithian looked at the men. "Well, clearly we know what each person's priority is." She turned towards the barmaid. "I'm looking for a man."

"Hmph, ain't we all? What's a'matter with these?" The barmaid then leaned forward and said in a stage whisper that everyone could hear, "Everything, eh?"

Mithian shared a smile with the barmaid. "Well, this one is special. "

"Isn't he now? C'mon, lass, tell ole Mary about 'im."

"Well, he is about this tall," she replied, pointing at her brother. "Black hair, blue eyes. Probably wearing a blue or red neckerchief."

"Don't forget to mention his smile," Geriant snickered.

Mithian gave Geriant a withering look. "Merlin has a smile you wouldn't forget. It's…"

"Ay, Merlin, yer say? Handsome fellow?"

"Well, I wouldn't…" Gwaine began, but Mithian pushed forward excitedly. "Yes. Have you seen him? He was traveling with another man."

"Ay, I ain't forget a handsome face like 'is," Mary replied dreamily. The group had to clear their throats a few times to get Mary's attention again.

"Ooh, yes." Mary startled a bit. "With a man dressed like yer two," she said, waving a dishrag at Gwaine and Leon. "He ain't so bad looking neither."

"When were they here?"

"Oh, I'd say four days afore."

"That's impossible," Gwaine said over his stew. They were in the back corner of the tavern, consuming their first warm meal since leaving Camelot.

Leon nodded. "Perhaps she remembered incorrectly. It took us days of hard riding to get here. It isn't possible for Merlin and Lancelot to get here in a day, but the important thing is that they've been spotted. We now know we are on the right trail."

"I wasn't talking about that."

"Well this is going to be grand," Mithian said under her breathe.

Gwaine smiled at the Princess. He liked to meet a woman's expectations. "Tell me, milady, how is a possible that our dear Mary can remember Merlin when she can't remember me?"

Mithian rolled her eyes. "I think she remembered you well enough."

But Gwaine continued as though he had not heard the princess. "And saying Lancelot is not bad looking! Not that I rank the knights against me or anything. Except I do. But Lancelot is definitely the one ranked closest to me."

"Is he above you or below you on your personal scale?"

"Obviously below. Look at my hair!"

Mithian turned towards Leon. "Is he always like this?"

Leon grimaced. "I'm afraid so, milady."

Mithian shook her head. Despite Leon's answer, she couldn't decide if it was all an act or not. Such a self-centered man surely wouldn't volunteer to go after a manservant. "When do knights go after servants?"

"When do princesses and princes?" Gwaine countered. "Anyway, he's not just any servant. He has a secret."

Mithian and Geriant looked at each other. "Secret…?" Mithian asked as she shifted on the bench.

"Yes." The knight leaned in closer before whispering, "He can read Greek."

"Pardon?" It wasn't the response Mithian was expecting.

Gwaine looked at Leon. "Well, I guess you're right. It's uncommon."

Leon drank his ale. "Thank you, Gwaine. And it _is_. It's not generally part of a classical education."

"Not anymore but we have a few scholars in our court that pursue it," Geriant supplied. "I'm pursuing older languages myself."

Leon lifted a brow. The young prince didn't seem like the scholarly type. He had only seen Geriant drink wine and consort with ladies. According to his own people, it was all he did. But then, the prince was here, riding hard and sleeping on the cold ground, in search of a manservant from a different kingdom. Leon was coming to accept that not everyone was as they seemed.

"Studying Greek?" Gwaine asked as he winked at Leon.

"No, our historian does not know it and I would have to go back to the monastery in the White Mountains to find a teacher. That's where our scholars go to study it. Where did Merlin pick it up?"

Gwaine shrugged, but Leon recalled Geoffrey's surprising defense of Merlin. "Our historian probably."

Geriant nodded in response. "Why did he learn?"

Leon didn't have an answer this time. Gwaine snorted. "Why can't he have a hobby?"

Geriant spun his tankard slowly about on the table. "Just didn't think the king's manservant would have much time on his hands. I thought he would learn it because he thought it was important."

"I think we should retire," Mithian said over the end of Geriant's comment. "We do have a long day tomorrow." Her brother stood as she stood.

"Why _do _you think they are really going after Merlin?" Gwaine asked after they had left. "Is it just because Merlin is a damsel in distress and she is in the position to help or do you think it's another reason? The Princess seems very good at avoiding questions, too." When he didn't get a response, he looked over at his companion to find him staring at the table.

Leon was thinking about Geriant's last comment. The prince had a point. _When _did Merlin have time to learn it? Servants worked long days and most never learned to read and write. His mother used to pull Gwen aside to teach her some basics. It paid off – it helped Gwen obtain employment in the castle – but other than her, only one or two of the higher level servants in his household could do letters. Perhaps Merlin knew how to read Greek before he arrived at Camelot. But how did he get access to someone who could teach him? It was a never-ending list of questions when it came to Merlin. Leon found himself pulling at his hair again.

"Do you read?" Leon realized that he didn't even know if Gwaine or the other commoners Arthur had knighted could read or not. Though they spent much of their time together, they were usually on the training fields, on patrol or relaxing at the tavern. It was not a question that occurred to him before.

"Yes, I was lucky to have a bit of an education. I know Lance can read a bit. Self-taught, I believe. Such a perfect little self-starter, that one. I think he might be teaching Percival. Elyan reads, you know. His family, I believe, was educated by yours."

Leon blinked. Gwaine really was more observant than he gave him credit for.

"So, what about my question?" Gwaine asked as he prodded the other knight.

"Sorry, what?" Leon asked.

"I was just asking –" Gwaine stopped himself when Leon started absentmindedly pulling at his hair again. It was not like Leon's hair could compete anyway so he might as well help a friend keep it on his head. He pushed his own ale under Leon's nose. "You know, never mind. We can deal with it tomorrow. You deserve another drink."

Gwaine knew Leon's answer already anyway. Leon believed in knightly honor – he probably believed that the royals were doing the honorable thing and helping someone simply because they were in need. And as much as Gwaine liked to tease the other knights about it, it was that quality in Arthur, in Leon, in Merlin and the others that lead him to becoming a knight, too. It was entirely possible that Gwaine had found a woman to compare all other women to.

* * *

Leon would never drink with Gwaine ever again. Mithian was knocking on each of their doors at dawn and for the rest of the day it felt like she was knocking against the inside of his head. He would catch himself leveling an accusing glare at her and had to remind himself that she wasn't knocking anymore, it was last night's ale.

"Leon, if you were paying attention, you would have seen what Mithian found," Gwaine was singing. Why was Gwaine's head so large? Oh, right, because of his ego.

"Did you find Merlin?" he asked groggily.

"Yes, he's hiding in her skirts. No, we found a grapple."

"A what?"

Leon heard Mithian sigh to the right of Gwaine. Or was it to the left?

"Where did you get a name like that?" she was asking.

"It looks like a cross between a grape and an apple. What else would you call it?" Gwaine held up a red-purple fruit speared on a blade for his inspection. "Leon, what do you think?"

The object swam in his vision. It did look like a cross between a grape and an apple but he wasn't entirely sure if he was in the right frame of mind if he was agreeing with Gwaine. "It could be a…grapple you say?"

"It appears neither of the objects are helpful. We should move on," Mithian sighed.

Objects? Were there multiple grapples? He only saw one. It moved from left to right, from right to left, from left to left, but he only saw one. Leon focused on it, trying to make it stay still. When it did, his eyes weren't drawn to the strange fruit but the blade. His blade. "That's my blade," he breathed.

"Pardon?"

He grabbed the weapon from Gwaine and pulled the fruit off and dropped it. His stomach seemed to drop with the fruit. "This is the blade I gave Merlin." Did Merlin lose this or was it taken from him? "What else is here? Search the road, the woods, the -"

"There's a body up here."

All eyes turned to Geriant. He was standing just over the side of a small hill, frowning at the ground. Mithian was the first to reach him.

"Geriant!" she scolded. "I thought it was Merlin!"

"Well, um, it's not. You know it couldn't be." He put his hands up and backed away when she glared at him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Even though Leon had heard Mithian, he had to confirm for himself. He pushed past his headache until he reached the top of the hill. "It's not him," he said, looking at the unfamiliar face.

"I think we've established that," Gwaine replied drily. "Though I'm not sure how he died. I can only see an arrow wound in his arm."

"We can worry about that later. We still don't know if Merlin and Lancelot are safe. We should split in two and search the area –"

"Your friends are alive and well, Sir Leon."

Leon turned and found himself face to face with another unfamiliar man. He looked back at the rest of his group. "This is not the ale?"

"No, it's not the ale," Gwaine replied slowly as he eased his sword from his belt.

The strange man held up his hand. "There's no need, Sir Gwaine. I'm Anhora, a friend of Merlin's."

"Have you seen them?" Mithian asked, stepping forward.

"Yes, but they are now out to sea."

"Out to sea? They hired a boat?" Leon asked. Where in the world were they going?

The man smiled faintly. "No, Merlin built his own boat. Don't worry, you will not be able to follow but he will be back."

And as suddenly as Anhora had appeared, he disappeared.

In the astonished silence that followed, Gwaine looked at each of his companions and asked, "Is there anyone else not comforted by any of this?"


	9. A Journey at Sea

Chapter 8 – A Journey at Sea 

**A/N**: When this story was originally conceived, it was eight chapters. And here we are at Chapter 8 (or 9, depending on how you count it) and we're just setting out to sea. Thank you for coming along for the ride for so long because apparently we're still going for a bit...or a lot. Also, happy holidays to all! I hope you all have a safe and enjoyable holiday season, no matter what you celebrate. I apologize for not individually replying to reviews / PM as much anymore – it's hard to keep up with all the end-of-the-year activities!

* * *

Last time…

_Merlin was up at dawn. He could never sleep when there was a problem to be solved. He went to the battlements again and flipped through another book, the Argonautica. He was looking more for inspiration than an answer._

…

_"Ready for our journey at sea then?"_

_"Uh, so…we're trying that spell again?" Lancelot asked hesitantly._

_Merlin couldn't help but laugh. "I had another idea. I thought we would go by ship."_

_Lancelot smiled in relief but as he assessed the empty shoreline, he frowned. "What ship?"_

_"The ship I'm going to call from the sea. The Argo."_

_And suddenly, the sun burned brighter and the winds embraced them as Merlin's eyes went from blue to gold and a ship from the past rose from the depths, its prow breaking the surface of the sea, sending white crested waves in each direction._

_The Argo._

…

_"Out to sea? They hired a boat?" Leon asked. Where in the world were they going?_

_The man smiled faintly. "No, Merlin built his own boat. Don't worry, you will not be able to follow but he will be back."_

_And as suddenly as Anhora had appeared, he disappeared._

_In the astonished silence that followed, Gwaine looked at each of his companions and asked, "Is there anyone else not comforted by any of this?"_

* * *

"So…this is the Argo," Lancelot said as he rocked the boat with the bottom of his right boot.

"I wasn't being literal," Merlin grumbled.

"Well, when you said the _Argo_, I was just thinking…" Lancelot spread his arms wide, indicating that he had been expecting something bigger than the skiff before them.

"The Argo is a ship from legend. Even if it did exist, it's supposed to be a constellation now. I can't exactly pull it from the skies. When did you get such lofty expectations anyway?" Merlin frowned.

"When I started spending time with you," Lancelot smiled. He didn't mean to give Merlin a hard time. It was just that…well, this was a sorry piece of wood.

"It's perfectly seaworthy!" Merlin exclaimed as though he had heard Lancelot's thoughts. Perhaps he had but Lancelot merely shrugged at the possibility – while he held himself together by holding himself close, he found that he didn't mind being an open book to Merlin.

Merlin splashed closer and the knight stepped aside so they could look at the boat together. There were three gaping holes at the bottom and one of the beams was splintering. Most of the wood appeared to be rotting – it _had_ been at bottom of the sea after all – and one of the sides was peeling off. "Um," Merlin amended, "after I patch it up a bit."

The warlock rolled up his sleeves. How hard was it to rebuild a boat anyway? He had changed the weather, defeated all sorts of magical beasts, and survived as Arthur's manservant thus far. All he needed was, well, perhaps knowledge on how to build a ship. Thank goodness he didn't try pulling up a galley like the actual Argo.

"I think I'm burning," Lancelot said awhile later when the sun was hanging high in the sky. He gingerly touched the bridge of his nose.

"I'm sorry for taking so long, _Gwaine._"

"There's no need to be so rude. I was just making a comment."

"You were _complaining_." But Merlin was smiling and so was Lancelot.

"Still, that was uncalled for." The knight pretended to huff as he walked up to the boat. "It looks like a proper boat now," he said slowly. And it did look newly built, even beautifully crafted. Merlin had reversed the age of the wood, reknit the broken beam and even built a mast from a seashell. But what Lancelot had refrained from saying was that it hardly looked like a boat one could take out to sea. Lancelot had never been out to sea before but he imagined this was one of those long boats that one would take to shore and was only meant to be used along the coast.

"It still needs…" Merlin mumbled as he tapped his chin. He looked down in thought and then gave a cry of triumph, reaching down into the waters to pull out a thick brown plant. He reached down again to pull up another one. And then with golden fingers, he started weaving the two together and then adding another plant and another until he created a canvas of plants – their sail.

"Remarkable," Lancelot breathed as Merlin put the finishing touches on the sail and hoisted it up to the mast. It wasn't just Merlin's ability that impressed Lancelot, it was his ingenuity.

"And just one more thing," Merlin declared with a mischievous grin. He held up his right index finger and blew on it. A flame flared up on his fingertip. He bent down by the boat's prow and with his finger wrote "Argo" along it – the word flashing bright with flames as it burned into the wood. "Now, we're ready. Try it out," Merlin said, gesturing towards their remade Argo.

Lancelot hesitated for a moment before looking at the grinning manservant. Their boat was not a legendary galley but it was something made by Merlin and well, if he ever took bets, he would put his entire bet on Merlin any day. So taking a deep breath, he stepped onto the boat. "Still floating," he said to Merlin who rolled his eyes in return. The knight then rocked from side to side, testing the boat's balance before sitting down and placing one hand on each side of the boat. "It's pretty good," he said with a nod. "Sorry I couldn't help – I had nothing to offer."

Merlin laughed. "Lancelot, you just climbed into a boat that _I _built. You've given me your trust. It's possibly the worse thing you can give me. " He climbed into the boat on the opposite side of the mast from Lancelot. He paused for a moment, looking in his friend's direction but not in the eye. "But it means the most to me."

"Well, you've had it from the very beginning and you'll always have it."

"How poetic," Merlin teased. But he was pleased– Lancelot's unwavering trust and loyalty meant a lot to him, especially since Lancelot was one of the few people who ever saw Merlin as more than a manservant, who had some idea of who he was.

"I'm no poet, Merlin, but it's true, I'm with you until the end."

"Just you wait, Lancelot. One day you will be the subject of poetry."

"Not before you will be the subject of legends."

"We should cast off before you make my head as big as Arthur's," Merlin mumbled. Merlin turned away but Lancelot could see the blush creeping up his face as clear as day. The manservant wasn't used to praise. He should be. If he hadn't changed the course of the world already, Lancelot was sure he would.

"Yes, there's not enough room in this kingdom for two heads that size," Lancelot played along. "Where are the oars? At least I can help row."

"Oars? I have magic. You may sit back and relax like a proper lady."

Lancelot lifted a brow. "Like the proper ladies we know?" Lancelot couldn't help but think of Gwen. She would never sit back when she could assist. "I think that would mean I should take the helm." He found that he had trouble speaking steadily – even fond thoughts of Gwen would bring about a stab of regret and deep emotion. He usually kept it at bay by throwing himself into training exercises or helping Merlin. "I need to do something."

Merlin looked at him for a long moment before nodding. He leaned over the edge of the boat and scooped up a broken seashell cracked in half. As he had done with the mast, Merlin elongated and transformed the shell into something else entirely. This time it was a pair of oars.

Lancelot wasn't sure if Merlin knew why he needed an occupation but the knight wouldn't have been surprised if Merlin understood more about him than the knight was wiling to even understand about himself.

"I'll sit back and be a princess," Merlin declared, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head after handing Lancelot the oars.

"Oh, like Mithian?"

Though he had been sitting down, Merlin managed to fall on his side. He laughed awkwardly while rubbing his elbow. "No, I can't imagine Mithian sitting around either."

Lancelot rowed whiled Merlin helped by generating a wind from the palm of his hand. Soon, the shore disappeared from view and all that surrounded them was the sea and the sky. The ocean was breathtaking for both of them in an entirely different way from when they were falling towards it. The breaking waves, the cloudless blue backdrop, the feeling of eternity rolling beneath.

"Oi, what's that?" Lancelot asked suddenly. He held the oars still.

Merlin turned to look at Lancelot. One of his hands was still out, creating the wind that was driving them along.

Lancelot leaned forward, peering into the sea, until… "There, there it is again! A fin!"

Merlin saw it this time, a gray fin, large enough to be attached to a sea creature their size. He reached out to it with his magic. "They're friendly," he smiled.

"Friendly?"

Lancelot's brow was still raised in question when the fin burst from the water, followed by the curved body of a gray sea animal. It flipped over the boat gracefully before diving into the water with its long nose first. The double fin tail hit the water broadly, almost purposefully, and a messy wave of water sloshed into the boat and onto the men.

Lancelot was soaked. Merlin beamed even as water dripped from his hair. "See, they're friendly."

And then another and another of these sea creatures burst from the water, flipping back and forth over the boat in graceful arches. A few lingered around the edge of the boat making a sound in the back of their throat like laughter. It certainly seemed as though they were laughing with their heads bobbing up and down and jaws opened wide. One surged up in the water until it was mostly out of the water, looking as though it were standing on the surface of the sea. It leaned forward with its head tilted towards Merlin – it seemed like they were having a conversation. Merlin was even nodding and humming at the creature. After the sea animal dropped back into the water, with what seemed to be a mandatory splash, Merlin turned to Lancelot.

"She said she would lead us until the net line. There's a whirlpool and some clashing rocks that are best avoided. They will guide us safely around them."

"That's very kind of them. What are they?"

"Dolphins," Merlin smiled.

Lancelot's eyes widened a bit. He had heard of dolphins before but even though he was out at sea, he never thought about seeing them. It was extraordinary the things one could see and experience when one's companion was a secret sorcerer.

"What's this net line though?" Lancelot asked, remembering that Merlin had said the dolphins would only take them so far.

"It's a boundary of sorts. Apparently if they go past it, the creatures that live there capture them for labor."

"And I suppose we will have to go past this net line?" It really wasn't a question.

"Naturally," Merlin shrugged.

"Alright then," Lancelot said, unsheathing his sword.

"Oh no," Merlin said, holding out his hand for Lancelot's sword. "They recommended something else for you."

"Oh?"

"Yes, we're going to have to tie you up."

* * *

Lancelot sighed. Being tied to a mast was rather humiliating even if there was only Merlin and the dolphins around to see it. Merlin was trying to stifle his laughter but the dolphins made no such attempt.

"Are you certain this is necessary?"

"It's best to trust our guides," Merlin grinned from ear to ear.

"What about you?"

"I should be fine. I resisted the Lamia, didn't I?"

"I wasn't there," Lancelot reminded him.

"Still happened."

Lancelot opened his mouth to reply but he never got around to it. A haunting call reached his ears. It pulled at him, beckoned him. He didn't notice the laughter had stopped or that the dolphins were starting to turn back. He didn't even notice Merlin hovering worriedly over him. It didn't matter – he just needed to reach the singer of that beguiling song.

"Please, please, let me go," Lancelot begged, twisting against his bindings.

Merlin gnawed his lip anxiously. He knew this desperate voice didn't really belong to Lancelot, that it was the siren's song that was making him this way, but it made him uncomfortable to see Lancelot so vulnerable. "We should plug your ears." He unwove a portion of the sail to create sound blockers for Lancelot but when he moved towards the knight, the latter tried to bite him. "Oi, this is for your own good, Lancelot!"

"If you want to help me, you'll let me go!" The knight was no longer desperate, he was angry, his eyes clouded over by the enchantment.

Merlin shook his head and moved towards the knight again. He had to jump back when Lancelot tried to take another swipe with snapping teeth. Merlin raised his hand to knock him out but before he had the chance, a voice called to him. Merlin swung around. He had known sirens would be beautiful but really, he had _no idea_. The naked woman holding onto the side of the boat smiled at him. The ends of her dark hair floated behind her in the water like a cloud and her tail caught the sunlight even from under the ocean surface.

"How can you resist our song?" She tilted her head in curiosity but her beautiful smile seemed to twist a bit into something darker.

Merlin swallowed thickly. "You should leave."

"Not without you, young sailor." And her smile widened, wider and wider until Merlin could see a row of sharp teeth in the back. Without warning, she surged forward and grabbed him by his tunic, pulling him towards her. She started singing in his ear and to Merlin, the song that must have lead hundreds of men to their deaths sounded like a hundred birds shrieking.

He pushed her off him but she merely grabbed at him again. From the other side of the boat, a dark skinned siren jumped out of the water and pulled at his sleeve. And then another and another, each of them with strong hands clawing at his tunic. He stumbled backwards and the tunic ripped.

The first siren impatiently threw the shred of shirt behind her. With her free hand, she reached out again, but Merlin put his own hand out and pushed her back with a wave of pure energy. The other sirens screamed and pulled even more desperately at him, ripping away his belt and other parts of his shirt. He turned his hand into a living torch and swung his arm in the sirens' direction. They hissed but moved back a bit.

"Take me, take me instead!" Lancelot was crying.

Merlin tried to maintain his focus and not roll his eyes at the knight. The creatures were starting to circle the boat while Merlin moved his arm in a wide arch, faster and faster, until a ring of fire encircled the Argo. The sirens started screaming and snarling and their song truly became a screech.

"Merlin, Merlin, are you alright? What's going on?"

Merlin turned back towards Lancelot. His gaze was no longer clouded. "Oh, good, you're lucid now. Just give me a second."

"Wait, untie me. Let me help."

Merlin ignored the knight in favor of pushing the ring of fire outwards. It forced the sirens to swim back but they did not leave. A blonde one tried throwing herself over the fire – she screamed when her fin caught the flames. It was not a scream of pain but one of rage. It seemed to encourage the others to try and Merlin started to spin the ring about, making the jump more challenging, while trying to steer the Argo out of these treacherous waters.

A siren made it past the fire. She launched herself onto the boat but Lancelot kicked at her. Another one managed to grab Merlin's ankle. "We will have you!" she cried.

"Well, it's a shame we aren't very compatible – you don't seem to like my best element." And Merlin lit everything on fire.

* * *

Merlin untied Lancelot once they had reached safe waters.

"Uh, Merlin."

"Hmmm."

"What happened to your shirt?"

"The sirens," Merlin replied, frowning at the knight. He knew Lancelot was enchanted for most of it but he was sure Lancelot was no longer under the siren's spell during the end of the battle.

"Did they light it on fire too?"

"What?" Merlin looked down, he only had a sleeve left and some material hanging around his waist after the sirens' initial attack but now the sleeve was on fire. "Oh, great."


	10. A Change in the Winds (part a)

Chapter 9 – A Change in the Winds (part 1)

Last time...

_When Arthur turned back, he saw that Nemeth had arrived. He straightened his back and squared his shoulders. Encounters with Nemeth were always awkward though King Ector never brought up his previous engagement with Mithian. The two kings exchanged some general pleasantries before he stepped aside and said, "And of course you remember my children."_

_Arthur nodded and stepped forward to shake hands with Prince Ian. Arthur grimaced when the prince stiffly brought up his right hand. Only last year, the heir to the throne had been attacked by bandits while out on patrol along the northeast borders of his lands. He had been overwhelmed and left to die but his wounds were not as mortal as initially feared and he made it through. Still, his right shoulder – his sword side – had been smashed to splinters by a mace and he would never be able to fight again...[Arthur] could not imagine how it would feel to have your way of life, your means of purpose stripped away from you. To feel useless and invalid, trapped inside yourself. It did not sit well with Arthur._

_..._

_"Merlin?" Mithian noticeably cheered and craned her neck to look about the courtyard. "Is he here?"_

_Arthur tried to process Mithian's apparent interest in his manservant. Maybe she needed something carried for her?_

_"No," he replied, "he went to um, Nemeth, to..."_

_..."So he finally accepted my invitation! But didn't he know about the peace talks?"_

_"Wait," Arthur replied, his eyes going wide, "you actually invited him?"_

* * *

Ian stood at the battlements facing west, thinking of his brother's account of their journey thus far. Though Geraint had relayed the message, it was obvious Mithian had been dictating it. His sister was much more careful with words and she had been careful to tell him nothing at all.

"You seem contemplative, milord."

Ian turned, his hand reflexively going towards his sword despite his inability to wield it anymore. He slowly released the pommel from his grip upon seeing the Queen of Camelot.

"Your highness," he said, bowing to the blacksmith's daughter who had usurped his sister's place. Of course, they had never wanted to arrange Mithian's marriage as they had, but it would've been a good match – the King was an appropriate age, Camelot was nearby, and the kingdom's strength and support was becoming a necessity. Mithian had actually pushed for it given their need for Camelot protection. It was certainly imperative that they receive it now and though there would've been no better way to guarantee it than through marriage, Ian was glad that his sister didn't have to be sacrificed for the kingdom's sake.

Mithian often claimed that she didn't ascribe to ideals of romantic love but she had returned from that first trip to Camelot quiet and somber. They didn't inquire much at first, assuming that she was disappointed that she had failed her people. But as time went on and they gained other alliances and shored up their defenses, there continued to be an edge of something they couldn't identify – a certain inattentiveness, a particular turn to her mouth. It was Geriant who came up with the notion that she must have fallen in love with the King of Camelot. But Ian refused to believe his clever and pragmatic sister would ever allow herself to get caught up in such a way.

Their father had knocked them both on their heads and gruffly said, "Don't you boys know anything? A woman is far more complicated than that. You must talk to her."

They should've known better than to go against their father's advice. It would've been far more efficient. They tried to find her writing book. They talked to her maid and the knights that escorted her to Camelot. They followed her on her walks to the woods. Staring at one thinking really told you nothing at all. They only learned the truth when Mithian became so impatient with their schemes that _she _asked them what the matter was. The brothers were both wrong – or both right as they had argued. Mithian was not in love with Arthur but that sort of love that she didn't think she needed, she now wanted.

"Not everyone finds it," she had frowned. "Arthur did. I liked him enough to want it to be me."

"You'll find it, too," Ian reassured her.

"Our father did," Geriant added.

"With his second wife. Not everyone gets more than one chance. Or any chance at all," Mithian replied.

"Maybe you shouldn't be in love at all, you're already so cynical about it," Geriant huffed.

Ian shoved his brother and shot him a look.

But Mithian was agreeing. "It's true. Me? Wanting love? I was raised to be a princess, a favorable match, a bargaining chip. I knew it would be my destiny and it was fine."

Ian pushed his dark hair from his eyes to take a better look at his sister. They were meant to sit on thrones and rule kingdoms and be responsible for the lives of many – and as such, they had been brought up in the tradition – a world of duty, politics, war and sacrifice, where they represented many things for their people – an ideal, a negotiation point, a pillar of strength, anything but an individual who fell in love and made judgments based on sentiment. It was something the siblings understood. It was a part of who they were, it was their way, even if they resented it at times.

Mithian had always accepted this with more grace than either of the brothers had. Ian often envied her for her ability to accept her responsibilities as they were, for being levelheaded and calm. He always thought that meant he felt loss more acutely than her and didn't realize until then that it meant she might not feel happiness as much as him. And she deserved to know what it would be like to tip over such an edge. Now that she wanted to, she should feel it too. "I think it was by fate that you did not marry King Arthur," Ian said resolutely. He never thought he would say something so fanciful to his sister but he meant it. "You were meant to fall in love with someone else."

"It's not who we are," Mithian said, shaking her head. "Do you know I actually said I would give up a kingdom to be so loved? How silly is that?" she laughed nervously.

Geriant and Ian looked at each other, not knowing what to say. It was usually Mithian who solved their problems, not the other way around.

"Well," Geriant said, clearing his throat, seeing that his sister needed more time to sort through her thoughts. "I think some silliness is in order sometimes – we can't always be martyrs for our kingdom while living. I say the last one back will have to sit next to King Alined at the next gathering!"

"Now you are offering one of us as a martyr!" Ian complained as he started running down the hill. Mithian and Geriant had already taken off.

For that one short afternoon, they were just siblings tumbling along the long grass not thinking of love or responsibility. The low sun set a golden path back to the castle and it was as though the future was spread out before them in endless possibilities.

The next day, the attack had happened. They never spoke about that afternoon again but if it weren't for the blacksmith's daughter, Ian was certain that Mithian would have gone back to Camelot and convinced the King to marry her. Because when the kingdom was a step back, she would find a way to make two steps forward on its behalf, no matter the personal sacrifice.

"You should be calling me Gwen," the Queen was saying with a smile.

Ian had not spoken to Queen Guinevere alone before. Their interactions had always been distant and formal. After the attack, his desire to be friendly and sociable had waned considerably.

"Very well, Gwen, but only if you call me Ian."

"Then we are in agreement," Gwen replied, inclining her head. "I am afraid the men are not back from the hunt yet and the ladies have failed to entertain you properly in their stead."

"No need to apologize, milady."

Gwen arched a brow at him. Ian allowed himself a small smile – the Queen shared some traits with his sister. "Gwen," he amended. "I should be the one to apologize – I am afraid I am the one who is poor company for both men and women."

Gwen laughed. "I can hardly fault you for leaving a discussion about neckerchiefs. I should actually congratulate you for being able to stay longer than the Princess Elena."

"I see neckerchiefs aren't as important to all ladies as it is to my sister." Ian forced a cough to cover up a grimace – Mithian would have his head if she knew how trivial he made her out to be with the excuse he had given for her absence.

"Yes, she seemed to be in quite a hurry to return to Nemeth to retrieve her forgotten _neckerchief_." The Queen emphasized the last word and looked at him pointedly for a moment before continuing. "I remember the first time I fell in love with a neckerchief – I thought I would cross oceans for it."

Ian swallowed in the silence that followed and it sounded unnaturally loud in his ears. He replied cautiously, "We are not talking about neckerchiefs."

"No, just like your sister did not return to Nemeth for a neckerchief. Or at least, not _just_ the neckerchief," Gwen said with an arched brow.

"Well, it has sentimental value." Ian wanted to slap himself on the head with his useless arm– he must have subconsciously associated Merlin and his neckerchief when coming up with Mithian's excuse. Though Gwen was clearly on the nose, Ian had to stand by his story. "She would have it by her always."

"Oh, I am certain of it," the Queen smiled.

Ian wasn't sure how to reply but was saved from the task by footsteps bounding up the tower. Arthur was soon on the battlements with them. "We're back from the hunt," the King said unnecessarily. He moved towards his Queen and greeted her before turning towards Ian. "Your father was asking if you would come down. Something about…birds?" Arthur said, making a half-fluttering gesture.

Ian knew exactly what his father wanted to see him about. "Thank you, milord," he said, bowing. "I will see him at once."

After Ian had left, Gwen asked her husband about the hunt. She shook her head sadly when he mentioned Merlin's name three times. "But Merlin wasn't there," she gently reminded Arthur.

"Precisely. If he had been there, we wouldn't have caught so much game and been back already." Arthur leaned against the battlements, looking in the direction that Merlin had gone days before. "Now I have to attend to my council. I would almost prefer to have tea with Alined."

Gwen gave her husband a doubtful look.

"I said _almost_."

"Are they still concerned about the amount of assistance Nemeth has requested?" Gwen looked towards the stairs that Ian had just gone down.

"Yes," Arthur sighed as he leaned against the battlements. Seating with his council was like fighting his father as his council was not his own, it was Uther's still. These were the men who Uther had fought with, knighted and given power over the fate of the people. Now that Arthur was king, he could technically override them, like his father often did, but they had believed in his father, succeeded with him, gained wealth and power with him. It was a different story with Arthur – the council had never been fond of what they considered Arthur's liberal and soft-hearted leanings, and since Morgana's siege and Agravaine's betrayal, they were distrustful of Arthur's judgment and fought him tooth and nail over every point. If Arthur dismissed their arguments, he would bring war into his own throne room. And he couldn't do that, he needed them on his side. It seemed only Gaius was ever on his side. Occasionally, it would look like Gregory wanted to say something but the historian never did.

"But we can't turn our back on them if they need our assistance. They are our allies."

Arthur didn't disagree with Gwen but he noted, "They _are_ asking for a lot."

"Because they need it," she countered. But of course, Gwen thought with a frown, that wasn't enough for the stuffy old men that made up Camelot's council. Gwen believed that in their old age and amongst their spoils, they had forgotten about honor and courage, caring only of themselves. Of course, as Uther had knighted these men and given them significant landholdings, Gwen questioned whether they had any honor or courage to begin with. Maybe all they ever had was ambition and greed. And maybe that was what they needed to play on. "Nemeth has essential trade routes. If they fall, we may lose access to that trade. And they are our neighbors. Conflict is bound to spill over to our lands."

Arthur looked down at his wife and smiled - intelligent and beautiful. "It's a good argument. I will make it to the council."

"Good." Gwen moved closer to him. "And Arthur…" They should talk about this now that one difficulty could soon be out of the way.

"Hmm," he murmured as he reached out with his hand to smooth her hair.

"What would you do if Merlin were to leave?"

"What do you mean? He left already," Arthur replied, gesturing towards the woods. "Lancelot and Leon should be bringing him back any day now."

Gwen sighed at the smile that graced Arthur's lips when he thought of Merlin's return.

"I mean, if he were to leave _for good_."

Arthur's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Why would he do that?" he asked slowly.

"I don't know, because he fell in love with a princess and went after her." She nodded meaningfully at him.

"But it's not like Mithian would ever consider... I mean, it's _Merlin_."

"And exactly what is wrong with Merlin?" Gwen demanded, hand on his hips. "I loved him first!"

Arthur laughed heartedly. That was his wife – always putting everything into an argument. "You loved him…" But Gwen didn't stop glaring at him. Indeed, her glare became darker until he was forcing himself to chuckle weakly. "Wait, what? Really?"

"Yes! When you were a bigger prat. Remember when the two of you first met? He stood up to you, he helped your manservant then when he had nothing to gain. He's always been like that, putting everyone else before him, doing anything to help them. And goodness, he just makes you smile…"

"Are you sure you still don't love him?"

"Of course, I still love him. But I'm not in love with him. But Mithian could be. She went after him."

Arthur shook his head. "She didn't go after him. She went back for some neckerchief she couldn't be without."

"A neckerchief? Do you believe that?"

"Why not? Lady Amelia went back to the _continent _because she didn't have her favorite hairbrush."

"You almost married this woman, Arthur. Would she go back for a neckerchief?"

Arthur once caught Merlin describing poetry to Lancelot. His manservant had held up his neckerchief and called it a symbol or a metaphor of himself. Arthur couldn't quite remember the proper term but he did remember calling Merlin a love-sick girl and taking the neckerchief from him. Merlin didn't look the same without the threadbare cloth tied around his throat – he was never without it after all – so Arthur had tied it back on. Or at least, tried. Merlin had huffed and taken the neckerchief back from the King. "Not like that," Merlin had said imperiously, tying a quick knot before turning to Lancelot. "What would _he _do without me?"

It was a question Arthur had never entertained. Merlin had never been away from him for long. Only a few days at the most. Somehow, when he most needed Merlin, he was there, ready to listen or follow him into the dim. And no, he didn't need to entertain it because what Gwen was suggesting – that Mithian was in love with Merlin and Merlin returned those feelings couldn't be true. And even if it were _remotely_ possible, surely Mithian's father would never permit it. It would never happen. Merlin would never leave.

"Gwen," Arthur finally said after his thoughts stopped chasing one another. "The Princess will make a favorable political match as she had always planned." She would not _take _his manservant.

"Arthur. A neckerchief?" Gwen persisted. She begged him to believe her – she knew that if he didn't face the truth head on, it would be more difficult for him to accept. And maybe Merlin wouldn't leave Arthur and she certainly didn't want him to go, but if Merlin was in love, he should go. She had seen him admire beautiful women before but he had never said anything about love with regards to himself – except once, in passing, about it being a rare glimpse. It hurt her to hear it, she had always wanted him to have what she had with Arthur.

Arthur turned away from Gwen. Of course he had thought it was silly for Mithian to go back for something so trivial but it was more unbelievable to him that the Princess would go after Merlin. An unwanted voice in the back of his head reminded him that Mithian _had _invited Merlin to Nemeth. And a neckerchief _could _be a reference to Merlin. Arthur shook his head. "No, it's not possible."

"Arthur?"

"It's not possible," he repeated and the feeling of the world dropping under him subsided a bit. It was as though saying it out loud meant it was true.

"Why can't you believe that Mithian would–"

"It doesn't matter if Mithian would or would not. Merlin would never leave."

Gwen sighed and looked away. There was no going forward with this conversation. "The winds are picking up," she remarked idly as it blew her hair back.

"Yes," Arthur frowned. He welcomed the change in topic but it was odd – there wasn't even a hint of a storm earlier today and now black clouds were gathering quickly along the horizon and the sound of thunder rumbled towards them. As they watched, a strike of purple lightening seemed to split the sky into two.

"We better get inside," he said, turning to his wife. "Hopefully this storm won't slow Merlin's return." Arthur held his arm out to Gwen, but as he did, the winds changed direction entirely and Gwen's hair was suddenly framing her face. Arthur looked back at the horizon. Where there had been a storm only moments before, there was now nothing but clear skies.


	11. A Change in the Winds (part b)

Chapter 9b – A Change in the Winds

Last time…

_"Well," Gaius said when he turned back, "what is this about the wind speaking to you?"_

_Merlin walked about the room, replaying the episode in his mind. "It wasn't the wind speaking exactly. A voice carried by the wind, I think."_

_"What did it sound like?"_

_"Like…" He couldn't say now that he had to describe it. "Like something I've never heard before," he said lamely. "It wasn't male or female but I felt like I could trust it."_

_…_

_The strange man held up his hand. "There's no need, Sir Gwaine. I'm Anhora, a friend of Merlin's."_

_"Have you seen them?" Mithian asked, stepping forward._

_"Yes, but they are now out to sea."_

_"Out to sea? They hired a boat?" Leon asked. Where in the world were they going?_

_The man smiled faintly. "No, Merlin built his own boat. Don't worry, you will not be able to follow but he will be back."_

_And as suddenly as Anhora had appeared, he disappeared._

_…_

_[Arthur] welcomed the change in topic but it was odd – there wasn't even a hint of a storm earlier today and now black clouds were gathering quickly along the horizon and the sound of thunder rumbled towards them. As they watched, a strike of purple lightening seemed to split the sky into two._

* * *

Mithian had told them there was no way in but they were knights of Camelot after all. "Stubborn to a fault," she sighed to her brother under her breath.

"How can there be no entrance?" Leon huffed as he stared up at the hedges. He had walked the entire length of the wall at least three times.

"Well, we can make an entrance," Gwaine said as he unsheathed his sword.

"Wait, I wouldn't –" Geraint began as he scrambled up from where he was laying on the grass. But he was too late, Gwaine was already slashing at the hedge, and it was all that he could do to roll out of the way when Gwaine was blasted backwards.

"Ow."

"We did warn you," Mithian said as she stood over the fallen knight.

Gwaine struggled into a sitting position and rubbed the back of his head where it had hit the ground. He really didn't fancy imitating Arthur. "Bloody hedge," he muttered. "Bloody hedge!" he shouted louder as he saw it swallow his sword.

"That's not going to convince it to give you your sword back."

"Thanks for the tip, Geraint."

The prince merely shrugged. "I was just saying."

"You could apologize to it." It was the strange man from the woods. Again, he seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

Gwaine jumped to his feet but as soon as he was standing, the world began to sway. Mithian grabbed him about the waist and hoisted one of his arms over the back of her shoulders. "Are you alright?"

"Am now," he smiled at her.

Mithian rolled her eyes. Even a head injury was not going to get in his way of trying to charm her. She turned away from Gwaine and focused on the newcomer. "Anhora, I believe."

"Princess Mithian," he bowed.

"How does he know your name?" Gwaine muttered into her ear.

Mithian looked carefully at Gwaine. While he seemed rather unconventional for a knight, there was no telling. Unless… "Probably because he's a sorcerer," she said calmly. He stiffened beside her and Mithian tried to keep her face neutral and free of disappointment. She slowly turned back to Anhora. "You said you were a friend of Merlin's."

"I am."

"Can you help us?" she asked, gesturing towards the hedge before them. Geraint had been able to get them this far but given what she had heard about the Labyrinth, they would have to go around it to get to the sea – if Anhora could help, it would save them precious time. Perhaps he could even help them part ways with the knights – that had always been the plan after all.

Anhora stared at her for a long moment before replying with finality. "No."

Mithian stepped back, surprised. She almost let go of Gwaine who reminded her of his presence by taking a firmer hold on her. "Pardon?" She hadn't expected the sorcerer to refuse.

"I have told you that you cannot follow him."

"Yes, I know, but I thought you just meant…" She wanted to say _them_ but she couldn't with Gwaine wrapped around her. She looked imploringly at Anhora, hoping he would understand.

"You cannot follow, Princess. You have to let him go," Anhora said more gently this time.

Mithian's heart clenched. She knew what Anhora was saying. How could you follow someone like Merlin? But at the same time, how could she just let him go? He was surely putting himself in harm's way at this very moment. If she could help him at all, then she would.

"He will return, Princess. But you must know he is not yours to have."

Mithian lifted her chin in defiance but before she could speak, Geraint stepped between her and the sorcerer.

"How can you say this? Is destiny so unforgiving that he must walk alone?"

Mithian knew she should interrupt Geraint but found herself unable to – she wanted to know what would to be said.

"He does not walk alone. He walks with the once and future."

"Yes, of course," Geraint said with a roll of his eyes. "But is everything in his path set in stone? You call it destiny, do you? It's sacrifice."

"Sometimes, it's both, Prince Geraint."

Though Anhora remained steadfast in his refusal to help them through the Labyrinth, he accompanied them on their journey around it. To Mithian's surprise, Leon was constantly engaging Anhora in conversation. They talked with their heads close together so Mithian could not catch their conversation but Leon would turn around once in awhile to announce that Merlin and Lancelot were doing as well as could be expected.

"As well as expected. _That's_ reassuring," she muttered as she idly stoked the campfire. It wasn't late yet but it was getting colder as they got closer to the sea.

"You don't believe him?"

Mithian swung around, surprised to find Leon looking at her calmly. The knight had been anxious and tense throughout their journey. They were all concerned, of course, but Leon had been holding it fast to his sleeve. That is, until Anhora had told him that all was as well as could be expected with Merlin and Lancelot.

Mithian pursed her lips. "I don't distrust him…at least…"

"Does his magic bother you, your highness?" Leon asked cautiously.

Mithian turned to fully face Leon. The knight was looking intently at her, as though assessing her reaction to magic, as though testing _her _feelings towards it. "It does not bother you."

"I…" he said, taking an involuntary step backwards. He was a knight of Camelot. He supported his King. And that meant he supported him in action, words and thought. And if his King thought magic should be banned, then so it was. He would not and could not say anything to a citizen – must less a princess – of another kingdom that could suggest his devotion did not always reach his thoughts. "It does not matter what my feelings are on the matter, your highness. He is in your realm. You are the law."

Mithian thought it was a well-played response on the knight's part but she read enough in what he did not say. "No, his magic does not bother me," she replied as she continued to study him. She had never spent much time with the Camelot knights before – she had her own knights with her the first time and came with her family since then. But she remembered meeting Leon, remembered thinking Arthur's second-in-command was the kind of man she expected him to be – skilled, attentive, dutiful, respectful. She wasn't surprised to find the he had been sent to retrieve his King's wayward servant. She had been surprised to find it seemed to matter so much to him. Perhaps she could find a true ally in him. "My brother, Ian…" She paused for a moment before forging on. "When he was attacked last year, he was saved by magic."

Leon looked around for a moment, saw Anhora and Geriant talking intently by the tree line and Gwaine not back yet. Now swordless, the other knight was looking for a decent piece of wood he could carve into a quarterstaff. Leon motioned for Mithian to sit by the fire and took a seat beside her. Leon knew he had to be careful but he saw in Mithian someone brave, fair and capable of understanding. "I was once saved by magic, too. I was on patrol along Camelot's borders. The entire patrol was killed, I was dying. But the Druids, they healed me with the Cup of Life. It was…it was something that they didn't have to do. Indeed, it probably would have been to their advantage to let me die." This was not something he could talk to anyone about. At least, not in Camelot. Though it was no secret how he was saved, with all that had happened with Morgana and the other magical attacks, Leon found he had no voice to give here. But it hardly meant he had forgotten.

Mithian leaned forward and put her hand over Leon's. "You know, as a subject, it is your right to speak. As a knight, it is your duty to say what is right. The time is nigh." She looked intently at Leon as she added, "And you appear to have a hidden side to you, too. Not all secrets are meant to deceive."

"It's not a secret, it's…" Well, what was it then? His sympathy, his understanding, his guilt, it was something he did not speak about or act on. He supposed it was almost a secret to himself. "Do you also think that Mer–"

"Well, aren't you two cozy?" Gwaine exclaimed as he pushed himself between the two. "What were you talking about?"

"Anhora," Mithian readily supplied as she tried to stamp down her annoyance at Gwaine's interruption. "Leon was asking if I trusted him."

"I don't trust him," Gwaine announced.

Mithian looked over at her brother and Anhora. Geriant was gesturing energetically while the other man nodded. "I don't exactly trust him. He is not helping us reach Merlin and Sir Lancelot. He is not saying something about them. But he could have had that hedge swallow us whole so I don't distrust him."

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew out the campfire.

"That's odd," Mithian said, standing up. It had been cold but clear all day. Where had the wind come from? But as she looked over the ocean, she saw the dark clouds.

"The winds are changing…" Anhora announced. He had a befuddled look on his face. It unsettled Mithian – she hope it didn't mean anything bad for Merlin but she felt it must.

"Oh, they sailed straight into that one, didn't they?" Anhora muttered more to himself than them. "I shall return."

"Wait," Gwaine brusquely asked. "What did they sail into? What is going on?"

But Anhora disappeared without responding.

They watched helplessly as the clouds moved black across the sky and seemed to gather out over the seas. That was where Merlin was at, they thought, but none of them could bring themselves to say it out loud. And then, lightening struck, purple and brilliant and nearly blinding across the sky.

* * *

They had endured harpies, double rowed teethed birds, pirates, carnivorous jumping fish and a hot sun.

"I think I'm getting burned too," Merlin complained.

"With that skin, I don't know how you're not entirely red already."

"You're full of compliments today."

"Well, I don't want to disappoint," Lancelot said as he leaned back in the boat. A movement underwater caught his eye. "I think we may have more guests," Lancelot said, looking up at Merlin.

"Oh, I knew. I've been trying to figure out what it is. It's big but hasn't been unfriendly yet."

"But it's not…friendly?"

"It's not friendly." The words had barely left Merlin's mouth before he was yelling at Lancelot to get down.

A large dark snout emerged from the water followed by an open fanged mouth and a spiked head with a rolling eye double the size of Lancelot's fist. Its long serpent body arched over the boat, once, twice, three times, shattering the top of the mast, before its tail emerged from the turbulent sea and whipped the side of the boat, capsizing it.

Lancelot managed to take one last breath before he was plunged under water. The side of the sea serpent scraped by him and he could feel how rough its skin was – tough like armor. He struggled to get away but it seemed to be everywhere. Everywhere he turned, the black scales blocked him, moving in a tighter and tighter circle towards him. And he understood, the serpent was going to coil him in its body and squeeze the life from him. Lancelot struggled to swim up but the serpent's movement seemed to create its own whirlpool. His limps felt heavy, his lungs ready to explode, he just wanted to open his mouth or sink or anything but this. But, Merlin, where was Merlin? He had to find him. He had to help him. But then the serpent knocked him on the chest with its tail and all his breath came out. He was going to drown.

He vaguely felt the water surge around him but it wasn't until he was back on the boat, coughing up seawater, did he understand what had happened. Merlin must have pulled him out of the water. He tried to find Merlin but all he could see were massive waves and the dark thrashing black back of the sea serpent.

"Hey, over here."

Lancelot leaned forward, trying to follow the sound of Merlin's voice.

"C'mon, you overgrown snake! You're the famed Leviathan, right? Come and get me!"

Lancelot's stomach sank. Merlin hadn't been calling him, he had been calling the serpent.

He grabbed the oars and tried to row closer to the monster. As he got closer, he could see Merlin in the water, trying to throw fireballs at it. He had to help. While Merlin had single-handedly dealt with nearly everything they've encountered so far, it didn't mean he could win every single battle. And so far, the fireballs didn't appear to be doing much damage.

Also, for something so large, the Leviathan was fast. It dodged easily. It tried to attack Merlin with its razor sharp teeth but in a flash of white light, Merlin would disappear and appear somewhere else. Lancelot felt disoriented even though he wasn't experiencing what was likely the bending of space and time by the warlock. He tried to refocus – he had already seen that Merlin was moving in a pattern and the serpent would catch up sooner or later.

He pushed past his nausea and started rowing again. But the sea was being disrupted by the thrashing monster and he continued to be thrown back. But as though by fate, the tail rose up in the water before him while he was making another attempt. Lancelot dropped the oars and pulled out his sword. With both hands on his sword and his feet pushed against each side of the boat to steady his stance, he brought the sword down on the tail with all his might.

The pain that radiated through his shoulder was excruciating. The skin really was like armor. There wasn't even a dent on the serpent's tail. But the Leviathan did turn – the rolling yellow eye glaring at him. Hopefully it would give Merlin enough time to attack. But it seemed time was running out for him. Before he even had time to think another thought, the cavernous mouth of the serpent was barreling towards him. Lancelot fell back on the boat as the sea, pushed by this enormous body, surged towards him as well. His hand touched something burning – he twisted around, it was the foreigner's axe. He grabbed it and it seemed to sear through his entire flesh. But he didn't let go. Instead, he gripped it tighter and with all that remained of his strength, he threw the axe into the Leviathan's mouth.

"I hope we don't need that axe again," Merlin said amiably once he was on the boat again. "How's your hand?"

"Fine," Lancelot replied, hiding it behind his back.

"Lancelot," Merlin warned and pulled it forward. It was as black as Merlin's was when he had handled the dark magic. "Lancelot! You might lose this!"

Merlin's first spell diminished the pain considerably but by the eighth, it was evident that he could not heal the hand entirely. Merlin stared at his friend's hand morosely – now red and blistered instead of black – but still likely to get infected. He sighed before waving his hand again. "Here's another for the pain. We will have to watch closely but it may….you may lose it."

"I understand, Merlin. Thank you, my friend."

"We need to get to the sender of that message. They may be able to help," he said determinedly, the fierce glint in his eyes replacing all sullenness.

Though he was in considerable pain, Lancelot could not help but smile. It was unmistakable that Merlin had the heart of a warrior.

What remained of the boat continued to carry them through. They were moving at a fast clip, buoyed by Merlin's magic, when they bumped against a barrier. They were thrown backwards but even in mid-fall, Merlin managed to protect Lancelot's injured hand. Merlin stood and reached out, touching the barrier. It was nearly invisible other than where it shimmered gold where Merlin touched it.

"What do we do now?" Lancelot asked behind the warlock.

"We break it," Merlin murmured as he moved his hands along the barrier's surface. He tried blasting it with pure energy but he was sent backwards. "I need something stronger," he decided. He had dispelled a storm earlier in their journey. Surely, he could call one up again. That would be enough energy to shatter it. Tilting his head back, he looked at the clear blue sky. And he willed something else instead.

The storm gathered quickly, the sky turning dark and black above, and thunder seemed to drown out all other sound. As it reached closer, he called lightening to hit the barrier.

"Easy!" Lancelot exclaimed behind him.

"You mean, easy for you to say," Merlin panted. It was one of the highest energy spells he'd ever done and it drained him considerably.

"Are you alright?" Lancelot's jovial tone was now gone.

But before Merlin had a chance to respond, a voice called to him. "Hello, Merlin."

The two of them turned in unison towards the voice. Before, they had only seen more sea beyond the barrier but now they saw they were near land. Indeed, their boat was in shallow water. And a woman was standing on the shore in a tattered white dress, her face all too familiar, her hair flowing behind her in blonde waves. "I trust you had a pleasant journey."


	12. An Answer to A Call

Chapter 10 – An Answer to A Call

Last time…

_The winds carried a message to him._

_Hope lies where the sea meets the sky._

_…_

_Merlin had been following Arthur through the marketplace but had paused when the shift occurred, the winds coming down a little lower, and magic spoke to him. He looked around when it was clear he would hear no more – there was laughter, shouting and exclamations on the street, and a huff – the sound of an exasperated king waiting for his daydreaming manservant._

_"Merlin, any day now," he grumbled, hands on his hips._

_Yes, any day now. This was the calm before the storm._

_…_

_And a woman was standing on the shore in a tattered white dress, her face all too familiar, her hair flowing behind her in blonde waves. "I trust you had a pleasant journey."_

* * *

"Morgause?" Merlin asked, swallowing hard.

He backed away as she came closer but it was difficult to find purchase on the wet sand. He dropped to one knee, feeling lightheaded.

"You know that is not true," she replied gently. She kneeled down beside him and placed her hands on each side of his face. "You are strong but you should remember that your magic is connected to this world. It is inside of you as much as it is everywhere else. I think you know but don't understand."

Merlin choked out a laugh. "Sometimes I feel like I never understand."

The woman looked sympathetically at him. "I know. You're not alone, Emrys. Let the sun strengthen you again." She slowly laid him down on the sand. "You can trust me."

Merlin nodded. He could. He had felt it from the very beginning and he felt it even more here. But his eyes – they showed him an enemy. But as she knelt down to brush his hair back, he noticed something he didn't before – she had one blue eye and one green eye.

* * *

When Merlin woke up, the sun was high in a cloudless blue sky and his head was pillowed in the cloak Arthur had given him. He let his eyes drift shut again but the feeling he was forgetting something stirred him.

"Lancelot?" he croaked, his throat dry. "_Lancelot!_" he tried again, as loud as he was able.

"I'm here, Merlin." Lancelot put his good hand on the warlock's arm and Merlin turned in the knight's direction.

"Are you alright? Where are we? What's going on?"

"You passed out. From exhaustion, I imagine. You've been using a lot of magic lately."

"There was a woman," he said, blinking hard, trying to focus.

"Me," the blonde woman pronounced as she entered his view. "My name is Elaine."

"You're Morgause's sister," Merlin said.

"Yes," she replied slowly, as though she didn't care to admit it. "And Morgana's sister. And Arthur's sister."

"Arthur's?"

"Yes. Though Morgause and I looked uncannily alike, she was only my half-sister." The woman knelt down by Merlin's side. "My mother told Uther that the first child he had fathered with her was a stillborn. Which of course, as you can see, is not true. I have one green eye, like my sister, Morgana," she said, pointing to it. "And one blue eye, like my brother, Arthur."

Merlin's eyes widened as a realization hit him. "You didn't send that message to me, you sent it to Arthur, through the kinship link," he said, remembering what Kilgharrah had told him about it.

"Yes. It allowed me to send the message across a greater distance."

"But the message reached me."

"That was the intent," Elaine nodded. "My brother may have heard a whisper of it. The recipient doesn't have to have magic. But I was counting on you hearing it better. Or at least, rousing you."

"Clever," Merlin murmured. "But vague."

"I apologize. I didn't want Arthur to understand." She smiled at him. "I had hope it would direct you well enough, towards the setting sun – where the sea meets the sky, but no matter, it seems you only needed your magic to guide you. It is your strong suit, after all."

Merlin had many questions for Elaine, all of them wanting to spill out at once. But he had not forgotten about Lancelot. "Perhaps but I'm rubbish at healing spells. Can you help my friend? His hand was badly wounded."

"I was raised on the Isle of the Bless so I've learned much about magic. But I don't have much talent. I will need your help."

Merlin nodded vigorously. "Just tell me what to do."

Elaine gently reached for Lancelot's hand and unwrapped the makeshift bandage around his wound. The skin under was a shade of light green. "You should have told me about your hand, sir knight," she scolded.

"I was concerned about Merlin," he replied, not backing down from her glare.

Elaine quirked her eyebrow in response before turning back to Merlin. "There are different branches of magic and it's common for a person to excel in one or two fields. It's uncommon for them to excel in all fields as you are aware."

Merlin nodded in reply, looking intently at Elaine. He found the longer he looked at her, the less she reminded him of Morgause. She was almost as mysterious as her late sister but her features was less stern, her looks more genuine.

"You can rule the winds, the seas, the earth and fire," she continued. "But it's extremely rare for someone with such command over the elements to be a strong healer. Magic requires balance."

"I've mirrored life and death before."

"I know."

The words weighed heavy in the air. Lancelot looked back and forth between Merlin and Elaine – they were sharing a serious knowing look. He wondered if this was how it was for all magical beings, the knowing without knowing. Though he was privy to knowing Merlin the best of all of Camelot, save perhaps Gaius, Lancelot wondered how much about Merlin he would never know. He didn't know what it meant when Merlin said he had mirrored life and death but this was not the first time that Lancelot had suspected that Merlin kept many things close to himself and one of those things was the extent of his power.

When Merlin looked away, Elaine began again. "But you were at a sacred spot. And it was in your right to take Nimueh's life for Gaius'. Not to say it wasn't impressive but the art of healing is more exacting – it requires a measured, layered response. You have to start at the root of the illness and work your way out, one step at a time. Here, give me your hand."

Merlin held his hand out to Elaine. She took it and placed it gently on top of Lancelot's injured one. Lancelot couldn't help but tremble – he could feel the combined forces of their power like a bolt of energy running under his skin. He had wanted to ask what Elaine had been talking about – about what Merlin had done for Gaius – but those thoughts were driven away by the sensation of their combined powers. He had felt this before – the power of magic – but it had always felt like a warm fire from within. He supposed that was Merlin's signature or something, and Elaine would have a different one, that would be altered when joined with Merlin's.

"Are you alright, Lancelot?" Merlin peered at Lancelot, seeing he had a faraway look again, like when he was thinking of his father.

"Why, uh…yes, yes," Lancelot replied, not quite focused yet.

Elaine turned and gave him the same raised eyebrow she had given him earlier. He wasn't sure if she was laughing at him or challenging him. He looked back at her as evenly as possible. She dropped her eyebrow and returned his look before Merlin cleared his throat awkwardly. Lancelot thought he could see the smile in her eyes before she turned her gaze back to Merlin.

"What do you know about treating burn wounds?" she asked Merlin as though their lesson had never been interrupted.

"The source should be promptly removed and the injured area should be cooled with water," Merlin replied, reciting the lesson that Gaius had given him.

"Good. You have done that already. Then what?"

"Um, it should be kept from infection."

"Dig deeper into the injury. It's more than that," Elaine said and pushed gently down on Merlin's hand with the tip of her fingers as she starting whispering words of the Old Religion.

Merlin closed his eyes and let Elaine guide him. Soon, he found his inner mind propelling itself into Lancelot's hand. He saw the depth of the wound – it reached down to the muscles in Lancelot's hand and restricted his blood flow. Without needing Elaine to direct him, Merlin opened up the channels in Lancelot's hand and stimulated the blood flow. He then started regenerating the muscles in Lancelot's hands, creating new ones while pulling the inelastic, melted parts away. He worked on one layer and then the next, moving outwards until he reached the skin, and with the skin, he would peel away one layer and create a new one until the entire hand was restored – hundreds upon hundreds of layers later. Merlin flopped back onto the sand once he saw Lancelot flexing his newly healed hand in awe.

"You did it," Elaine and Lancelot both exclaimed at the same time.

Merlin tiredly waved a hand in their direction. Healing magic _was_ exacting. "How have I done this before without…" He had to take a moment to breathe deeply. It sounded loud in his ears. "Without being so…exhausted?"

"Have you done anything so complicated before?"

Merlin shook his head in the negative. The sand shifted beneath him with each turn.

"Then I suspect your talent with magic guided you well enough in the past. But your will can only get you so far. Like I said, you know but you don't understand. Until you understand, you will not be able to access magic fully. Within yourself or in the world around you."

Merlin struggled to get up so he could actually talk to Elaine face-to-face but Lancelot gently pushed him down. "We should move him to the shade," he heard Lancelot say before he felt the knight grab him underneath his arms and lift him part way up so he could pull him up the shore.

Merlin would usually protest but he had been lying half clothed in the sun for some time. "Don't forget the cloak Arthur gave me," Merlin said when they were halfway up the shore and he saw it lying on the sand. He twisted a bit in agitation as the water line crept closer to it.

Elaine turned back immediately and scooped the blue material up. "You care a lot about my brother," she said when she had caught up with them.

"He's my friend. And he will be a great king."

"I believe he will be a great king because of you."

"If I can keep him alive," Merlin mumbled as Lancelot placed him against a stout tree. It was much cooler under the shade, even chilly.

Elaine unfolded the blue cloak and tucked one end behind Merlin's left shoulder and tucked the other behind his other one. "I will help."

Merlin had been looking closely at Elaine again. He knew he could trust her – his magic sensed that from the very beginning – but he couldn't help but feel he was missing much of the story. "Why do you want to help us now? You have never been involved before."

"It's true, I didn't want to be involved in any of it," she sighed. She took a seat between Merlin and Lancelot but looked out into the sea. Both Merlin and Lancelot sensed she needed a moment and did not break the silence. It was some time before she spoke again. "My mother was a seer. She came from a long line of women with the Sight and it was something that she passed on to her daughters. No one's Sight is the same as another's though. Morgause could scry and read crystals but that was the extent of it. Her command of ancient spells and ways was her strength. As you know, Morgana could see the future in her dreams. Seeing the future is extremely rare and few have the gift."

"Or the curse," Merlin said what Elaine was thinking. She was not surprised.

"She was the one with the strongest sense of Sight?" Lancelot guessed.

Elaine smiled humorously. "Morgana's talent is indeed very unique. She sees an absolute. The future she sees will happen. At least, many believe that it cannot but happen."

"You believe differently?" Merlin said, leaning forward and looking at Elaine.

"No. I believe this is the balance of magic. She cannot control what she sees so she can see the absolute. It comes to her when she has no defense against its intrusion. But I do believe that dreams can be interpreted incorrectly."

Merlin fell back against the trunk of the tree with a thump, a deep frown pulling at his mouth. It made Lancelot frown as well – the knight was about to ask what the matter was when Merlin spoke up again.

"And you? What is your Sight like?"

"It is how I found you. Let me go back. It's true, I didn't want to be involved in any of their affairs. Not Arthur's, not Morgana's, not Morgause's. I wanted to live simply and in peace and the only way I knew how to do that was far away and without magic."

Merlin nodded in understanding. Lancelot found himself frowning again. How could Merlin be without magic? It was part of who he was, it was the means by which he kept Camelot safe, he was _born _with it. He didn't pretend it wasn't hard for Merlin but he didn't know anyone who could have borne it any better.

"Morgause," Elaine continued to explain, "as you imagine, would have none of it. We were both brought up on the Isle of the Blessed but while she embraced magic and excelled at it, I retreated further and further away from it. Though sisters, we grew apart. And then, I learned about Morgana. Telling Morgause about her was probably my biggest mistake. I didn't think of the consequences of sharing the news with her. I just wanted my sister back – I wanted to share with her something we had in common again."

"To Morgause, it was as though the gods had given her a new sister to replace the one who was now no longer seeing the world the same way she did. I didn't want Morgana involved with Morgause's plans to restore magic to the land – those plans were violent and radical. I wanted Morgana to continue living her life as it was – in the safety of her ignorance, in the riches of Camelot. It was a life I would have wanted, I think." She threw a self-deprecating smile at them and Merlin reached out to take her hand. Lancelot wished he could offer a similar comfort but it was inappropriate to take a woman's hand. Of course, Merlin seemed to be the exception to all rules. And this seemed to bear true when Elaine next spoke, "You know about it. And about hiding, about denying who you are."

"Yes." And the weight of his words fell heavy on their group.

Then, Merlin spoke again, knowing without knowing. "To ensure you wouldn't run interference with her plans for Morgana, Morgause marooned you here."

Elaine nodded. "She stranded me on this side of sea. She didn't realize that at that time, I wouldn't have really done anything to stop her. I was against it all but I was not a woman of action, like her. But as I disagreed with her, she began to see an enemy in me and set up these impossible series of traps to prevent me from returning to Albion."

"Impossible unless you're Merlin," Lancelot said as brightly as possible, hoping to ease the mood.

"Precisely," Elaine said, smiling at the knight.

Merlin didn't want to interrupt the long look Lancelot and Elaine were sharing once again but he needed to prod further, he needed to know, because he still sensed there was more to this story. "But you said you wanted to help?"

"It's very easy to stay out of it, to ignore it, isn't it? But then there was _you_. I saw you, I knew of you, and I knew you would take care of it… I could've stayed out of it forever. In a way, Morgause gave me the life I always wanted. But you…you carry such a burden, don't you, Merlin?"

Merlin looked away, feeling her words resonate deep within him. But he didn't want to acknowledge it, give life to it, because he was always fighting it even though he was now better at keeping it hidden away. But Elaine would have none of it – she had seen much, too much, and done so little about it, to continue ignoring her birthright and the turn of the world. She took Merlin's chin and turned him towards her, feeling a bit of her sister in her. "I know. But I don't know. Because all I do is see. I see you. And I see my brother, with you, becoming a better king because of you. I can continue watching or I can act. I can stand up for what is right. It's coming. And Arthur is my brother by blood and you are my kin by magic."

"What do you see, Elaine? What's coming?"

"I think you already know. The Saxons."

"The men from across the seas," Lancelot said, recalling what Merlin had sensed with the axe.

"Yes. They started arriving some time ago."

"Some time ago? Why didn't you call me sooner?" Merlin cried, standing straight up.

Elaine looked up at him, her eyes sympathetically and smile sad.

"Don't tell me I already know!"

"But you do," Elaine replied, shaking her head. "The time was never right till now, was it? You were always off saving someone or another. I didn't want to ruin your peace but for now, you are not needed in Camelot. It was a…good time to call you."

Merlin nodded half-heartedly and sat back on the sand again, wrapping his arms around his bent knees. "And who are the Saxons really?"

"Mercenaries. They tend to operate independently of each other but it seems they have been banding together with the intent of taking over this land. The storm is coming."

"We will be ready," Merlin stated, looking steely eye and more like the most powerful warlock to ever walk the earth than ever before.

"We will be," Elaine agreed. "In fact, I have something for you that would even the field." Elaine nodded behind Merlin. Merlin turned around, vaguely aware that Lancelot was rushing towards him, shouting. But Merlin didn't hear him as he was engulfed in a wall of blue fire.

* * *

**A/N**: So, yes, you were meant to think that was Morgause, like Merlin did. And sorry for another cliffhanger but I think we covered a lot of ground in this chapter. We now know what the warning is about and who sent it and why. But there are still some big moments yet to come! Anyone think it was Elaine (from Arthurian mythology - with some obvious changes)? I haven't finished seeing Series 5 so I think it's just Arthurian mythology and not canon (but I don't need to know if she ends up in the show!).

As a side note, I wrote a Mergana fic called Six Degrees. Please check it out and let me know what you think! I think there's a lot of possibilities for Merthian but there was always one way I wanted it to happen whereas with Mergana, I can't decide so before and if I launch into anything epic with that, I'll be writing some smaller fics. Certainly, I won't start anything big until I am done or nearly done with this one!


	13. A Red Thread

Chapter 11 – A Red Thread

**A/N**: I know, very late. I actually didn't expect to post this today but I knew it was now or never. I appreciate all the messages and hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Last time…

_"And who are the Saxons really?"_

_"Mercenaries. They tend to operate independently of each other but it seems they have been banding together with the intent of taking over this land. The storm is coming."_

_"We will be ready," Merlin stated, looking steely eye and more like the most powerful warlock to ever walk the earth than ever before._

_"We will be," Elaine agreed. "In fact, I have something for you that would even the field." Elaine nodded behind Merlin. Merlin turned around, vaguely aware that Lancelot was rushing towards him, shouting. But Merlin didn't hear him as he was engulfed in a wall of blue fire._

* * *

Merlin put his hand out against the flames, expecting them to disappear into the winds. Instead, the flames surrounded him like an embrace. The warlock peered into the blue haze, trying to see beyond it, but all he could make out was a flicker of white on the edge of his vision. He waved his hand about but nothing happened – the flames still danced around him. They didn't burn him though.

_Your magic is connected to this world. You know but you don't understand._

It was Elaine in his head.

Merlin wasn't sure if he quite understood but he had an idea. He closed his eyes and reached into the fire that burned within him and willed it to reach out beyond him, to connect with the blue fire surrounding him.

He felt the moment the flames came together. There was something warm and familiar about the caster. Slowly, Merlin opened his eyes and this time he could see beyond the blue haze – a curious face with bright yellow eyes was blinking at him.

A dragon.

The feeling of familiarity swept through Merlin again but this time, the warlock understood – this was his kin and this was what it felt like to connect outside himself and to intertwine magic with another. He thought of when he reached out to the world to seek Elaine and how the world had welcomed him like an old friend. He thought of how Elaine lent him her inner eye to help Lancelot and he was able to know without knowing. His magic so often isolated him, he did not really know the magic of working with others, did not recognize it, did not truly understand until now – magic was not simply something within him, it was something that made him part of everything else that was magical, beautiful and alive in this world.

_And you could command the world, Merlin. Or you could have it work with you._

That choice had always easy for Merlin. Merlin opened his arms to his kin and the dragon chirped happily in reply and launched itself into his arms. Though still small, the dragon was powerful and Merlin fell over from the momentum.

"Omph," Merlin said as he landed on his back, his arms protectively around the dragon.

"He's been wandering around the island," Elaine said as she leaned over the prone warlock. "He usually doesn't comes back until sundown but your presence must have drawn him back early."

"Where did you get a dragon?" Merlin asked in awe as he took in the creature before him. It was a deep golden red with a yellow underbelly. Merlin could not help but think it was a Camelot dragon.

"You called him," Elaine answered as she tickled the dragon under its chin.

Merlin shook his head. "No. How could I've called him? I didn't even know another egg existed." The dragon bent down and nudged Merlin with his snout. Merlin blinked – the dragon had given him an image, the same image Merlin had projected when he called up their boat, the "Argo" – a red dragon on a prow, its snout breaking the surface of the water, a bright yellow underbelly. "Oh."

"The reach of your magic is far. You are not aware of the effects you begin," Elaine said in a slightly scolding tone. "There's much to learn."

Merlin muttered, "You could certainly say that again." To imagine, leagues away, he had inadvertently called a dragon from its egg. "I suppose you already have a name," Merlin said to the dragon before him.

Argo chirped in agreement.

"Well, now that we're all together and have been properly introduced," Elaine said, standing up with a glint in each of her different color eyes, "let's see what we can do together."

Merlin grinned. This was going to be memorable. He winked at a worried looking Lancelot before turning back to Elaine. "So, what are we going to do? Fire ball fight? Water fight? _Snow _fight?"

"Not exactly." Elaine picked at the helm of Lancelot's cloak and pulled out a long red thread. "We're going to tie string around the trees."

"What?"

The dragon echoed Merlin's squeak.

* * *

Merlin loved Camelot. It wasn't just because of Arthur he loved it. He had been in awe of it since he first saw the castle and its spiraling towers. And then he came to appreciate the quiet hours he would spend in its thick woods, the feeling of camaraderie he felt when he walked amongst his peers in the marketplace and in the castle, the sense of belonging when he stood up and defended it with his king and the knights. It was his home now and he could not imagine being anywhere else.

But at this moment, he didn't want to go back. Not yet. He knew it was time – they had agreed upon a plan of action and the sooner they started, the better prepared they would be for the storm to come. But he had learned so much since he had come to this island – Elaine had taught him scrying and spell writing, levitation, and energy assimilation, he was able to practice his reflexes against Elaine, Argo and Lancelot – magic, fire and sword all at the same time – he had experimented openly and had a scroll full of notes of how one thread connected to another, set one or three off in separate directions. He had been able to learn magic from someone truly knowledgeable about the craft, had been able to do it under guidance and in the open. He had run around the island with Argo on his heels, laughed with Lancelot about his tricks, and exchanged with Elaine stories of magical mishaps. But tomorrow, he would have to go back, back to hiding, back to the shadows. It would be suffocating.

"You should be asleep," Elaine said as she approached him. She watched as Merlin followed one thread with a finger until he connected with another thread, causing both to vibrate and touch off the others connected to them. Each thread represented an action resulting in another action. They last looked at the consequences of slowing time – they followed how his one act could result in another event changing and another and they had worked on untangling the threads so they could determine what could be and what wouldn't be. Though it looked like Merlin had barely moved, she knew he was absorbing each connection, each vibration, each result. She walked closer and pulled three threads at a time, causing multiple vibrations, multiple results. He moved this time, his head going back and forth, trying to catch each movement. "You can't follow them all, you know."

Merlin sighed and angled his head so he could see her. It was dark but he focused in on her and in the next moment, it was as though there were no darkness between them. "How can I go back to how it was before?"

"Because you love Camelot and its people and you will do what needs to be done to protect them all."

Merlin couldn't help but laugh. "Can you read minds?"

"No, I can't. But I've studied you for a long time, Merlin. I know all the places you go to think, I know how you scratch the back of your head to bide time, I know which boot you put on first in the morning."

"That sounds rather boring."

"I was stuck on an island for years," Elaine replied with a shrug.

Merlin turned back to the strings, some were still vibrating. "What do you See?" he asked after a moment.

"Have you heard of the parable of the three blind men and the elephant?"

"Yes," Merlin replied slowly, unsure where this would lead.

"Tell me it."

"Three blind men were told to describe an elephant to the king. Each man felt a different part of the elephant. The man who touched its leg described the elephant as a pillar, the one who felt its tail compared it to a horse, and the man who felt its tusk said it was like a harvesting tool. None of them could grasp the elephant as a whole."

"And that's like Seeing. The gift and curse of Sight. I can See but I can't See all. You want me to tell you about the future but I can't tell you. I will give you a pillar when there's not one at all."

Merlin shook his head. He had been in the Crystal Cave and saw a vision that helped him stop Uther's murder. "Surely what you've seen can be helpful," he insisted.

"No," Elaine replied, firmly. "By accessing the future, you change it."

"That's not what you said before. You said the future was an absolute," Merlin frowned.

"I said that was true for Morgana. Her sight is particular; all her rivers lead to one sea, different ways to the same thing. Potentially," she added with a raised brow. "But I'm not her. My Sight is different. Visions do not come to me. I _access _them. I see the possibilities, the threads that connect, what will be and what may never be. It's a dangerous path to walk, Merlin."

"Then why are you throwing your lot with me? How can you be sure I will succeed?"

"It's not because of any future I know. It's because of what I See in you." Elaine walked forward and placed a warm hand on his arm.

Back by the fire, Lancelot was trying to get Argo not to eavesdrop. The dragon was difficult to handle, it kept hopping beyond Lancelot's grasp. When the knight finally caught him, the dragon twisted around and breathed on him. Lancelot instantly felt lethargic and dropped to the ground. "You little troublemaker," he managed to mutter before he became completely immobile. Argo chirped in agreement and settled into the knight's arms as he listened to the rest of the conversation.

Lancelot couldn't help but listen as Merlin and Elaine walked back towards the fire. His eyes were closed, his limbs uncooperative and any noise he made sounded like a snore. How did a week-old dragon learn such a spell?

"I've made mistakes, you know," Merlin was saying.

"Everyone makes mistakes."

"Not one's like these. I _created _Morgana, I made her who she is."

Lancelot couldn't see but he could tell Elaine had pushed Merlin from the shuffling of their feet. He didn't know where Merlin got the notion that his actions must have caused Morgana to change so drastically but he knew it couldn't be true.

"You didn't create her anymore than I did by finding her and leading Morgause to her. Morgana made her own choices."

"There must have been a way for me to save her," Merlin argued, backing up at the fierce look in Elaine's eyes.

"She must save herself, Merlin." Elaine turned away, trying to calm herself. She understood Merlin's feelings – she had walked this same path before – but she also knew how destructive it was. "Do you think people are born evil, Merlin?" she asked suddenly.

"No," he replied without a second thought.

"Then how are we truly destined?"

"I…well…"

"I don't think we are destined."

"But Kilgharrah says that I am destined–"

"A dragon is always certain! It's their way, Merlin, it's in their blood. Do you know they don't learn magic? It's innate in them. Humans, on the other hand, are prone to self-doubt but perhaps it is because we can question ourselves we are able to find another way, our destinies cannot always be set in stone, the future is yet for us to set. I would say it's possible that you will not become Emrys but you already are."

"If we have choices, then why me, why was I born this way?"

"Because you were needed."

"That means I never had a choice," Merlin sighed.

Elaine turned Merlin towards her by his chin. "You've always had a choice, Merlin. Sometimes it is easier to believe we don't have a choice but we do. "

Merlin ran a tired hand across his eyes. "Nearly all my life, I would've given a thousand kingdoms just to be anyone else."

Elaine shook her head. "At least a thousand kingdoms would fall without you."

"See? How can I walk away from that?"

"You can't because of who you are. Not because you don't have a choice. It's true we didn't choose magic, it chose us, but we have been given this with the sky, the moon, and the stars, with suffering, intellect, pain, love. Sometimes we do not know what to do with it but we can make choices within this realm we live in."

There was silence and Lancelot wished he could move, could stand up beside Merlin, but he was still immobile. Argo shifted anxiously against Lancelot and somehow the knight knew that the dragon wanted to go to Merlin, too, but understood that Merlin needed a moment to himself, to absorb what Elaine had said and collect his thoughts.

"It's lonely," Merlin confessed after some time. "I'm connected to everything and nothing. I am the only one, the last of my kind, and there are so few people who understand it. But as much as my magic isolates me, it connects me to everything else – there's no feeling like it."

"Merlin," Elaine said as she took hold of his wrist. "I want you to remember something. It's very important that you do."

"Okay."

"You may have a destiny with Arthur but you also have a life of your own, you have things that are beyond Arthur…No, no, you must listen," she said when the warlock shook his head. "You do not walk alone. You never have and you never will. I have chosen to take my stand with you. And so will others. I don't need Sight to tell me some things."

* * *

Lancelot did not remember falling asleep though he had a vague memory of a kiss on his forehead and the blankets were tightly tucked around him when he woke in the early dawn. It was time to leave. He looked around for Merlin and saw him knee deep in the water, holding Argo in his arms, as the sea wind pushed his hair back.

"Earth, wind, water…and fire. The four elements."

Lancelot nodded, hoping he hadn't jump too much. Elaine had an uncanny way of appearing seemingly out of nowhere.

"He'll need you more than ever, sir knight."

"I'll be there for him." Lancelot could not imagine ever abandoning Merlin. But he never truly understood the burden that his friend carried, all that he kept inside himself. He would have to talk to him on the way back home.

Lancelot started gathering their supplies and they were ready to leave in short order. Dragon stationed on the prow of his namesake, warlock ready to push off, but Lancelot hesitated before setting foot on the boat. He turned towards Elaine one final time. Her stare was as intent as ever. "Will I see you again?"

Elaine had Seen this, but she didn't trust even the most certain of her visions occurring until they actually did. The feeling was heady and she tried hard to dampen her smile but could not. "Perhaps another door shall open when one closes."

"Well..I…" Lancelot wasn't sure what to say. The smile that had blossomed across Elaine's face was making it hard for him to concentrate.

"She means you two will meet again," Merlin said as he pulled Lancelot onto the boat. "Sounds like it will be a good reunion."

Merlin gave Elaine a little wave while using his other arm to channel the energy to move the boat. "We'll talk again soon." He tapped his head for emphasis.

Elaine waved goodbye but before he was out of calling range, said on the wind, "Oh, by and by, Merlin, you may want to put on that cloak before you reach the other shore. It will save you the embarrassment." She threw him the same mysterious mischievous smile she gave him the first time they met. Merlin shook his head over her purposely vague warning but grinned – he saw Arthur and the old Morgana in her eyes.

* * *

**A/N**: Next up - a reunion!


	14. A Stand Amongst Brothers

Chapter 12 – A Stand Amongst Brothers

**A/N**: I hope everyone you know at the Boston Marathon today is safe and sound. :(

* * *

Last time…

_[Merlin] was tired of lying, tired of keeping track of all the webs he had spun, each one becoming more elaborate and complicated, so that each time he turned, he was the one getting tangled up in them, and they would close in on him, trapping him, suffocating him._

_…_

_Though he was privy to knowing Merlin the best of all of Camelot, save perhaps Gaius, Lancelot wondered how much about Merlin he would never know. He didn't know what it meant when Merlin said he had mirrored life and death but this was not the first time that Lancelot had suspected that Merlin kept many things close to himself…_

_…_

_"He'll need you more than ever, sir knight."_

_"I'll be there for him." Lancelot could not imagine ever abandoning Merlin. But he never truly understood the burden that his friend carried, all that he kept inside himself. He would have to talk to him on the way back home._

_…_

_"I'm looking for a man."_

_"Hmph, ain't we all? What's a'matter with these?" The barmaid then leaned forward and said in a stage whisper that everyone could hear, "Everything, eh?"_

_Mithian shared a smile with the barmaid. "Well, this one is special. "_

* * *

The sea spread before them wide and blue. Unlike their journey to the island, the return was largely uneventful. Old enemies did not return, almost as though sensing Emrys' new strength, while their friends – dolphins, water spirits and swooping seabirds – came to greet them. Argo was perched on the prow – his gleeful cries of coming to know the world in harmony with the beautiful scenery.

Yet, an edge of melancholy hovered behind him in the form of a knight and a warlock. Argo peered back once in awhile but he knew they would work it out.

Lancelot wanted to give Merlin the time and space he needed, but the quiet provided him too much opportunity for reflection. He felt deeply that he had done right by Gwen and also by Arthur, but it didn't mean he ever stopped loving her. In his eyes, she was perfect and true, and no woman could compare to her. He thought he would love Gwen until the ends of his days but then there was Elaine, vulnerable yet strong, troubled yet determined, tragic yet inspiring. He knew, rationally, that it should be possible to love another, even someone different and unexpected, but for some reason, he felt like a part of him was tearing apart when it should be soaring, because he was always meant to love Gwen wholeheartedly and without a doubt as he had for so many years.

Lancelot's troubled feelings had a vice-like grip on his heart. He needed to turn his focus elsewhere, and confronting Merlin was a long overdue task. It wasn't just the matters discussed on the island – it was everything. He had always allowed Merlin to come to him, to reveal what he pleased and keep what he wanted, even if he disagreed. But he didn't realize the trouble it was causing until now, how Merlin was causing harm to himself by keeping everything so close. "Why do you blame yourself for Morgana's actions?"

Merlin had been sitting cross-legged on starboard with one hand trailing the water, seemingly lost in thought even while driving the boat forward. He turned sharply towards Lancelot. "What do you mean?" he asked. He sounded guileless but his eyes flickered nervously to the side.

Lancelot felt a familiar sympathy rise in him but it would not deter him this time. This was for Merlin's own good. "_Merlin_," he said firmly.

Merlin started shaking his head. "You don't understand. You don't know the extent of my sins, Lancelot."

"Then perhaps you need to make me understand," Lancelot said pointedly. Merlin wasn't going to make this easy.

"I don't want you to think of me as..." Merlin began but closed his mouth, not sure what he wanted to say. He knew how he wanted Lancelot to see him, how he wanted everyone to see him, but it was hardly fair to allow Lancelot, one of his few friends who knew about his magic, who followed him without question, to believe in an image without shadows, without darkness, because that was an image he projected and it wasn't quite what he was.

Lancelot reached forward and clasped Merlin on his shoulder. "Tell me. I won't think of you as you fear."

The silence stretched between them and Lancelot was about to resign himself to having this conversation another day when Merlin blurted out, "I poisoned her."

Lancelot brought his hand up, off Merlin's shoulder, in surprise. He felt frozen at Merlin's admission, it wasn't what he had expected. "Okay," he said slowly as he brought his hand down again and gripped Merlin's shoulder. He was going to be there for Merlin, no matter what. "Tell me what happened."

Merlin let go of his breath. He hadn't realized he had even holding it. But when Lancelot had stilled at his admission, he felt like his last anchor had been tossed and there was no bottom to be found. But then Lancelot's strong hand settled on his shoulder again and he felt tethered once more. Lancelot had the right to know if he was going to stand by his side. So Merlin launched into the tale of the Fires of Idirsholas.

It was difficult to listen to. It made Lancelot realize how easy his choices had been – they all had seem difficult to make at the time, leaving Camelot, leaving Gwen, standing beside Arthur and Merlin despite the heartache it caused him – but he had always known what was the right choice to make. There was no right choice in the tale Merlin was telling. There was certainly a _better_ choice and he agreed with the one Merlin took but that did not absolve everything – it certainly did not absolve one's soul. But someone had to make these choices and it seemed that it always fell on Merlin to carry out these impossible tasks, to carry this burden. It wasn't as though Lancelot did not see where Merlin made mistakes but he also understood that he had the benefit of hindsight and he could not say that anyone would have done any differently in the situation in that moment.

"We all make mistakes, Merlin…" he said when Merlin turned away at the end of his confession. "Maybe…maybe, that's why magic choose you, because you are able to make the tough decision but you still can doubt yourself." Lancelot's voice became stronger as he realized what he wanted to say, what he needed to say. Though Elaine was able to help Merlin work through some of his burden, it wasn't just going to take a night to tear down what must have been built up for years. Morgana had been Merlin's friend, he had cared about her, but it didn't change what he had to do, what he did do. Lancelot put both hands on Merlin's shoulders and shook him a bit until the warlock looked at him. "Morgana has no remorse, no sense that she's wrong, she is simply headed down –"

"She was wronged by me," Merlin interrupted.

"Was she? Did she understand why you did it?"

"I don't really know. I think she knows my motivations but doesn't agree with them..."

Lancelot sighed. "She doesn't agree with them because she was the one who had to die. She doesn't agree with them because she would have allowed everyone else to die so she could live. Maybe you should've explained it to her, but Merlin, YOU would have drunk the poison if you had to. If I recall correctly, you once did that."

Merlin flushed and looked away. It was too easy to believe in Lancelot, to let go of this guilt, but if it had been his choice to poison Morgana, then it had been his choice that gave birth to the destructive person that returned in her skin.

"Why are you so resistant to the truth?"

"I'm not!" Merlin countered.

"Then, what? Am I wrong, Merlin?" Lancelot was usually very good at restraining himself but he couldn't see why Merlin insisted in beating himself down.

"It can't be that easy!"

"Well, why ever not?" Lancelot stood up on the boat, rocking it badly from side to side. "Some things are! Like magic for you. It's easy for you. Everything can't be hard - otherwise, nothing would be hard, it would all be the same. Some things are just that easy."

Merlin opened his mouth to respond but Lancelot did not give him the chance. He was going to attack Merlin's stance from every angle he could think of.

"Even if she believes you wronged her, why has seen been targeting Arthur? They grew up together as siblings. What has Arthur done to wrong her?"

"Uh…I…she wants the throne."

"Arthur's the rightful heir to the throne and even if she has any argument about succession, well, it would be Elaine who should be queen, not her."

"Well...I...well...she wants magic to be returned to the realm."

"And so do you but you've made the choice to do it a different way. It hasn't always been easy, it hasn't been bloodless, but by G-d, do you try. Morgana chose a different path. But it was the path she chose, even when she has seen the results of such choices."

Lancelot sat back down so he was eye to eye with Merlin. "Don't forget that we all have choices and _we _make them. Some of us do the best that we can, the world can't ask us for more."

Merlin looked at Lancelot for a long while in silence. Lancelot now knew of the choice he made that ate at his soul the most, the one that woke him up at night, the one that made him question himself the most. This was the mistake, the betrayal that gave birth to an enemy, that made true a prophecy of evil, that would result in the downfall of those he cared about. Sometimes he wanted to believe in destiny so badly because it meant it didn't matter what choices he made, Morgana would have turned despite what Merlin had done, but it didn't seem to comfort him at night when he thought that it was his destiny that gave rise to hers. And when Elaine had told him that it was not destiny, it was a choice, he couldn't quite swallow her antidote either – that it was Morgana who carved her path on her own because it meant that he had made a choice as well and it was the wrong one. Sometimes, it felt like he could never win. But here was Lancelot, the truest, bravest, noblest of all the knights of Camelot – he now knew everything and he still stood by his side and looked at him still as his equal, his friend, his brother.

"I'm right, Merlin. It speaks to your character that you feel guilty for another's action, but at some point," Lancelot said as picked at a thread from his cloak, "what happens over at this thread will have very little to do what happens at this one." Lancelot pointed at Merlin's cloak. "We can draw some sort of connection perhaps but all you need to do is follow the path you've been walking because your heart is true and it will lead you right. I believe in you and I stand with you."

Merlin slowly nodded at his friend, too overwhelmed to speak. Lancelot gave him time to recover. As always, the knight was there for him. Argo climbed down from his perch and snuck under Merlin's arm, letting his dragonlord know he was there for him too. "I need to tell you something else," Merlin said when he could speak.

And so Merlin told him everything. Everything he kept hidden, all the secrets, all the lies; it all came to light. For the first time, Merlin was able to untangle himself from the threads of destiny that bound him and reveal who he was. Lancelot learned it all, the warlock's final burden, why he did what he did, and why he didn't do what he needed to do.

They were so engrossed in their discussion that it was a surprise when the boat ran aground in shallow water. It was an even bigger surprise to hear someone calling Merlin's name.

Princess Mithian was running through the breakers towards the boat.

Merlin cursed Elaine in every language he knew. She _could _have told him. He pulled the cloak tighter around him and stood as the Princess reached starboard and looked Merlin in the eye. Merlin had always admired Mithian – she was strong, beautiful, observant and kind. And while he was not blind to her qualities, he never indulged in any illusions. But in that moment, he was falling through stars straight into one. Merlin felt as though there was no one else in the world. There was no time, no space, just her dark eyes looking into his. The moment of suspension ended when she leaned forward, but the plunge back into reality was somehow even more of a break from it as she threw her arms around him. Merlin didn't even realize he had wrapped his arms around her in return and lifted her off the ground until they began to ache from holding her above the water.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to…" He said as he lowered her. "I just didn't…"

"Don't apologize, Merlin," she said in a way only a princess could.

"Okay," he replied as he swallowed his half-formed apology.

Mithian nodded in acknowledgment but she could not remain stern. She smiled widely at him. "I'm glad you're well. We were concerned, especially after seeing that lightening." She threw her arms around him again. "I'm really glad."

Argo chirped happily. It seemed everyone was happy and it made him happy.

Mithian peered over Merlin's shoulder at the noise. Sir Lancelot did a poor half-dive to cover the dragon from her view but it was too late. "Did you leave to retrieve a dragon? Was that your mission?" she asked.

Merlin nearly dropped her. But he managed to keep hold and tried his most innocent expression. "What dragon?"

Mithian rolled her eyes. "Do I look like your King Arthur to you? I _know_."

Merlin looked intently at Mithian. She was just about the last person he expected to see when he returned and yet here she was, _really glad_ to see him, unfazed by the fact he had a dragon with him, and possibly aware of his magic. By the G-ds, she was going to turn his world upside down.

Before he could respond though, the sounds of another person making his way through the water reached his ears. He turned to see a sandy haired man walking towards them. He looked vaguely familiar but it was Mithian who reminded him.

"My youngest brother, Geraint. He was the one who found you."

"Found me?"

"Yes, I'm good with magical tracking."

"With…excuse me?" He looked between the siblings. Mithian was nodding at him encouragingly while Geraint was looking at him anxiously. "You both have magic."

"No, just me. My mother was –"

"King Ector's second wife." Unlike his father and siblings, Geraint was freckled and fair-haired – Merlin remembered making a passing remark about it and Arthur had explained that Ector had remarried after his first wife died but she had mysteriously disappeared many years ago, when their only child together, Prince Geraint, was just an infant. "She had magic then," the warlock said as he made the connection. "That's why she disappeared…"

"Yes, during the Great Purge. I've been looking for her ever since I found out," Geraint explained, nodding, "but maybe she's better at hiding than I am at tracking."

"I can help you."

The Prince stepped forward eagerly. "Would you? I would be in your debt."

"No, you wouldn't. We both have magic so we need to stand together." Merlin offered his hand to the Prince and Geraint reached out to shake it. The warlock felt the undercurrent of magic under Geraint's skin – it wasn't strong but it was there – and that's what mattered, that's what made them the same.

"Let's get onto shore," Mithian suggested. "We broke away from a couple of your knights so we could get to you before them. But they aren't far behind. I'm not sure if you are ready to explain your dragon."

Merlin nodded and picked up Lancelot's sword while the other picked up the dragon in his arms.

"Who was sent after me?" Merlin asked as the four of them made their way up the sand.

"Sir Leon and Sir Gwaine. An interesting pair, those two," Mithian replied with a raised eyebrow. She began giving Merlin and Lancelot a summary of their journey, making sure to mention Mary's description of Merlin's features.

Geraint was about to helpfully mention what Mithian thought about Merlin's features when he caught sight of a falcon circling above them.

Merlin followed the Prince's gaze up to the sky. "He has a message," Merlin observed as he too followed the bird's flight.

"Yes, for me," Geraint said. The prince held his arm out for the falcon to land. "I seem to have a connection with birds, I use them to communicate with my family, but they also come to me – to tell me of things they've seen."

The bird landed gracefully but its wings continued to flap even though it was steadily perched. It gave several sharp cries that seemed to convey distress, but otherwise, the sounds it made meant little to Mithian and Lancelot.

But Merlin and Geraint both heard the message clearly.

Merlin met the Prince's eyes. "Can you figure out their exact location from what she said?"

"I can do better. I can track them to the very spot they are at with my magic."

"Then, let's go."

And in a blinding white flash of light, they were gone, leaving Lancelot to stand awkwardly before the Princess with the baby dragon in his arms. "So…Merlin does that."

* * *

**A/N**: So, this was a relatively quick update given my recent track record. Want to applaud me with some reviews? Or berate me for another cliffhanger? :)


	15. A Knight's Discovery

Chapter 13 – A Knight's Discovery

* * *

_Last time…_

_"Does his magic bother you, your highness?" Leon asked cautiously._

_Mithian turned to fully face Leon. The knight was looking intently at her, as though assessing her reaction to magic, as though testing her feelings towards it. "It does not bother you."_

_"I…" he said, taking an involuntary step backwards. He was a knight of Camelot. He supported his King. And that meant he supported him in action, words and thought. And if his King thought magic should be banned, then so it was. He would not and could not say anything to a citizen – must less a princess – of another kingdom that could suggest his devotion did not always reach his thoughts. _

_…_

_Leon knew he had to be careful but he saw in Mithian someone brave, fair and capable of understanding. "I was once saved by magic, too. I was on patrol along Camelot's borders. The entire patrol was killed, I was dying. But the Druids, they healed me with the Cup of Life. It was…it was something that they didn't have to do. Indeed, it probably would have been to their advantage to let me die." This was not something he could talk to anyone about. At least, not in Camelot. Though it was no secret how he was saved, with all that had happened with Morgana and the other magical attacks, Leon found he had no voice to give here. But it hardly meant he had forgotten._

_Mithian leaned forward and put her hand over Leon's. "You know, as a subject, it is your right to speak. As a knight, it is your duty to say what is right. The time is nigh." She looked intently at Leon as she added, "And you appear to have a hidden side to you, too. Not all secrets are meant to deceive."_

_"It's not a secret, it's…" Well, what was it then? His sympathy, his understanding, his guilt, it was something he did not speak about or act on. He supposed it was almost a secret to himself._

* * *

This was not how Gwaine imagined his demise. It was altogether too pathetic, too likely to end up in a tavern song that someone like him would sing. Sir Gwaine, Camelot's most handsome knight, death by sticky, stinky mud. While Leon was going to reach an entirely unpleasant end too, at least his would sound braver. Crushed by centaur, hair wild in the wind while struggling mightily against his unnatural foe. This really was a bad day.

It had all started when they had woken up late and feeling disorientated. Mithian and Geraint were nowhere to be found and all the horses were gone. Gwaine gallantly stumbled about the camp, searching for the sword he had lost days ago so he could run it through the bandits or evildoers who had taken the Princess and Prince. It was only after he had made three haphazard circles did he realize the camp was too neat, too undisturbed.

"We've been had," he groaned before tripping on his own feet and eating dirt.

Their progress was slow – Leon had to lean heavily on his sword as he shuffled forward while Gwaine had to make way with a makeshift walking stick. It seemed they were falling every few minutes. Once, after Leon fell down in the middle of the path, he went to sleep.

As if that wasn't bad enough, there were no tracks to follow. The royals made sure they could not be followed.

"What are they up to?" Gwaine muttered as he tiredly pushed his hair back and accidentally hit himself in the head with his stick. "If they hurt him…" he grouched as he rubbed his head.

Leon considered Gwaine's words. Clearly, there was more to the Princess and Prince than met the eye. But the Princess seemed sincerely interested in Merlin and concerned about his wellbeing. Had it all been an act? And what purpose would it had served?

Leon thought of the act that Merlin put on. The goofy clumsy servant. Leon had studied and considered Merlin's behavior from every angle and could only conclude that Merlin did it to remain by Arthur's side. If Merlin displayed his true aptitude, he would have been properly apprenticed to Gaius or even Geoffrey but that meant being left behind in the castle. Merlin was not the type to be left behind.

And surely, Arthur would not want to leave Merlin behind? Everyone knew how much Arthur valued Merlin – even if he was the last one to admit it. So there was really no reason for Merlin to hide.

If Leon had enough energy, he was sure he would be pulling his hair again.

For some reason, Mithian's words from earlier came to mind. _"You know, as a subject, it is your right to speak. As a knight, it is your duty to say what is right... you appear to have a hidden side to you, too."_

Leon had never expressed his doubts about the war on magic. It was a fight that he seemed to have fought all his life and when Morgana turned, wielding an even darker magic than many of the knights had ever seen before, the fight continued on, arcing over the reign of the Pendragons. This was how it was. But should it be? Leon had been saved by magic and a knight should never forget a debt such as that.

Yet, he had never said anything to Arthur about it, he never brought it up, never gave voice to the thought that he could nevertheless not forget. Did he fear Arthur would banish his second-in-command for being sympathetic to magic users? Arthur was fair, just and noble, and Leon knew he would proud to lay down his life for a king such as Arthur. So why hadn't he said anything?

"Oi, did you fall asleep again?" Gwaine said as he poked Leon with his stick. "C'mon, look lively, we've got to save Merlin."

Leon shook his head – he was still in a fog. He should concentrate on reaching Merlin first and working out his thoughts later. These were the priorities of a knight. "Race, right?"

Gwaine snorted good-naturedly. The knights often tried to one man up the others. Of course, they weren't really fighting fit at the moment but if it helped them get to Merlin faster, he was game. "Why not? Though, at the way we're going, Merlin will be the one saving us."

Gwaine thought they were doing a decent job of egging each other on but they were still stumbling blindly through the woods. They persevered, heading in the general direction of the sea, guided by the sun and instinct, but eventually, they found themselves in a black forest devoid of light, devoid of sound. They tried to turn back but got caught in thorny hedges that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Then the trees started to screech at them. A vine swiped Leon's sword and a shadow knocked Gwaine's staff from his hand. Gwaine surged forward, ready to fight with his fists, but the ground below him changed from dirt to quicksand. Leon, brave, hair wild as he ran, tried to come to Gwaine's rescue only to be lifted clear from the ground by a creature that was half man, half horse. They were in trouble.

Every move Gwaine made seemed to pull him in further. He tried to grab on to a root or vine but the plants seemed to move away from him each time he reached out. It was as though the forest was against them. "Oh, c'mon, what did we do to you?"

"You are a knight," the centaur said. His voice was even but the undercurrent of anger was there, echoing through the forest. It was as though beast and nature were connected.

"We're not here to hurt you, we just want to find our friends and help them," Leon struggled. He could barely breathe, the centaur was squeezing him with his bare hands, crushing him into himself.

"And when we needed help, when our babes were being slaughtered, when our forests were being burnt, by _your_ people, did you hear mercy?" The centaur demanded, his stare unwavering, his eyes hard as flint.

"I…" Leon had faced death many times before. Each time he would focus on the fight, on surviving, on saving, on winning. This time he thought back to the morning when he hadn't given voice to his thoughts, when he didn't take action when he should have. He thought back, too, to Uther's days, when there had been campaigns against magic users where villages were burnt and young ones killed. He had only been a squire then, not participating, but he was there. He didn't know what he could've done then, what he would've done then, but a sense of regret wanted to rise in him for all those moments, from his youth to this moment, when he should have done things different.

But it was too late, Leon couldn't grasp onto it, everything was turning black and the eyes of the centaur became black in his vision too. "Pl…"

"Wait!" Merlin came barreling out of the woods into the clearing. He slowed down time, taking in the scene, Leon in the hands of a centaur, a moment from death's door. Not today. Not under his watch.

Merlin was next to the centaur in a blink of an eye.

The centaur's grip suddenly loosened and air rushed back into Leon. Lights danced in his vision but when they cleared, he saw the familiar pale face and big ears of the person he was meant to save.

With what little strength he had, Leon cried, "Merlin, get away from here!"

But Merlin never did what he was told. He came closer, one hand held out in entreaty. "Please, he's with me."

"A knight? With someone like you?" questioned the centaur.

Merlin walked even closer. He wasn't threatening or imposing – his frame too slight, his clothes too shabby – but he walked like a man in command, calmly, even in the face of death. Leon had seen this look before but for some reason it didn't register until now how fearless Merlin could be, how much Merlin gave over to the cause, like a knight sacrificing himself for his king and people.

"Yes. He's a good man. Trust me."

To Leon's bewilderment, the centaur set him down though his large hands remained wrapped around his upper arms. The centaur tilted his head at Merlin. "We do trust you. We believe in you. We always have. We have read it in the stars for a thousand years."

Merlin was humbled by the centaur's words. Before he started this journey, this would've been hard to hear because destiny had been such a burden to him, and though, in many ways, none of that had changed, the knowledge that he was far from alone helped ease the weight that he carried – he was connected to all that was magic and magic would never leave him.

He bowed his head slightly at the centaur. "I am honored to have you as an ally."

"And I am honored to follow you. Until we meet again then, Emrys." The centaur also bowed his head. But before he disappeared back into the woods, he stared down at Leon. "Be careful how you tread, knight."

"Well, that was…uh, lucky?" Merlin grinned sheepishly as he scratched the back of his head.

Leon stared at him.

Merlin squirmed under Leon's gaze – usually the knights would shrug at some inexplicable event and continue on but not this time. Leon was looking intently at him. Merlin wanted to look away but instinctively, he knew he could not.

Leon wanted to pull at his hair again but looked at Merlin instead. This wasn't luck – this was another part of the puzzle that was Merlin. Merlin, the King's _manservant_, the unassuming boy always tripping about them, had just asked a centaur to trust him. Had got the centaur to set him down and not crush him as the creature had intended. Had got the centaur to pledge to follow him like a bannerman. Merlin who read Greek and Latin, who set off on quests on his own on behalf of his King, who always stood by his King's side at battle, who could walk and talk like a man above nature, but always seemed to hide behind a different face if you didn't look hard enough. What was Merlin hiding that he couldn't tell Arthur?

And suddenly, it all fell into place as Leon realized how nervous Merlin looked. Merlin was strong, brilliant, fearless, except when it came to facing the truth. Merlin hid from Arthur because he had to.

"You have magic."

Merlin swallowed nervously but still he did not look away. He never intended Leon to find out – certainly not before he told Arthur at least – but now that Leon knew, he had to know what the second in command thought. He had seen the moment the knight realized the truth but now Leon was looking back at him somewhat passively. It was Leon's way to be diplomatic, Merlin supposed, but it gave away very little of his thoughts to Merlin's increasing nervousness.

"Oh, well, that makes sense now," Leon said when Merlin did not contradict him.

Relief washed through Merlin. He didn't even realize what a release Leon's acceptance would be. And… "Um, wait, is that all you're going to say?"

Merlin covered his mouth with his hands. Why did he even ask that? He should be grateful that Leon didn't run him through then and there.

Leon ran through all his thoughts today – all of them leading him to being able to realize the truth at this time, at this moment. He smiled and clapped Merlin on the shoulder. "Do you believe in Fate?"

Merlin looked at Leon's hand on his shoulder and stated something he was beginning to believe. "I believe in choices. Perhaps the rest of it is really just luck or humor."

"Maybe," Leon said with a nod. "I'm sure we have lots to talk about as it is but I really would like to get out of here at the moment."

"Uh, yeah, me too. Merlin, mate, now that you have magic and all, can you help me out?"

Gwaine was hanging upside down over quicksand.

"What happened to you?"

"He tried to fight with the forest."

"That was a mistake."

"Yeah, I get it, I've been wrong before. I mean, I thought your big secret had to do with a sixth toe."

"A sixth toe?"

"You better help him out before even more blood rushes to his head. I have no idea how he ended up upside down."

"Oh, right." And with a flick of his wrist, Gwaine was again on his feet on solid ground.

"Oi, Merlin, how did you do that?"

"Um, magic?"

"It was a rhetorical question, thank you," Gwaine said as he threw a muddy arm around Merlin's shoulder. "I have plenty of real questions for you though. Like, can you turn water into ale?"

"I've never tried but I know some cleaning spells."


End file.
